Hide N' Seek
by Ambrelle Shirak
Summary: There were other students at the Academy with River... PreRiverJayne. Vague MalInara. KayleeSimon. PostBDM.
1. Prologue

Prologue

**Musings of an Agitated Mind**

After the events at Miranda, River was a different person: coherent, cogent, and a bit of a brat at times, but she had found her place finally. It happened to be in the co-pilots chair, learning the truth of the ship, and by the crews side as a competent and able combatant. Even Simon had smartened up enough to remember what it was like to live. Rapports had begun to form, tentatively even with the most difficult of the crew. And, since Simon spent most of his time with Kaylee these days, River was most pleased to have an entire bunk to herself.

Free of the memories that weren't hers, River learned what a good nights sleep really felt like. The bliss lasted for a whole gorram week! Right up until Mal announced that they were headed for Persephone, and a meeting with Badger. That very night, her dreams began again.

Hazy and disjoined, she tried to take solace in the fact that they were just like everyone else's dreams. The first two nights had faded with the morning wake-ups from _Serenity_'s speakers. However, the third morning, Simon had to come find her when she missed breakfast. He had found her alright, clutching her silly pink bear to her chest. After taking the better part of an hour to convince her that Dr. Mathias was dead and could no longer hurt her, she appeared to recover and forget the nightmare. On the fourth night, at her insistence, Simon remained with her, and his presence warded away the worst of it. But that fifth night, the final night before they made planet-fall on Persephone…

Nothing could protect her…

_Blank staring eyes were glossy with death. A flap of skin hung like a macabre smile across the girl's neck, leaking a growing, steaming pool of scarlet onto the sterile floor. The weight in her hand reminded her…_

"_All weapons must be cared for."_

_River knelt and gently wiped the blade off on the girl's shirt. Information flickered through her thoughts as she stared at the blond curls soaked in blood: Amber Valese. Age twelve years, eight months and fifteen days. Ranked fourth out of ten._

"_Worst failure of all."_

_The room whirled in a blur of lights, even though River didn't flinch. The lips of the corpse moved again, whispering words, hidden behind a saccharine smile._

"_Failure to complete. Failure to graduate."_

_Everything blurred again, shifting violently. Oddly, River felt no vertigo; her world had always been wildly skewed. This new world was carnage. Fires guttered in the piles of scrap and filth, filling the sky with acrid black smoke. River called out, overcome with the need to be near someone. Anyone. Friends. Family. Foe._

_She wandered amid the rubble, hesitantly at first, but with increasing agitation as she recognized the scraps to be the shattered hull of a shuttle. A red twist of cloth, deep maroon and twisting in a breeze that River couldn't feel, caught her attention. Silk… the color of the curtains in Inara's sacred space… the sourness rose in her throat, the vile putrescence of bile.._

_She found them one by one._

_Zoë: Impaled on a broken beam in a twisted parody of her husband's death…_

_Mal and Inara: he draped over the body of the Companion, as though he'd been trying to protect her… but half of his face was missing, blown off by a bullet issued from his own pistol._

_What… what could have been Kaylee: a charred and irradiated husk, frozen in a state of eternal agony…_

_Jayne: one arm practically torn off… a gaping hole in his stomach where his own grenade belt blew up._

_Oh, Simon? Where was Simon? River ran from the edge of the destruction, ran from the faces of her friends, corpses twisted unnaturally in state. She ran until she heard laughter. The world refused to stop with her, spinning and blurring until only two shapes remained. A young boy. And Simon's broken corpse._

_A red smile marked Simon's throat.._

_The boy smiled sweetly_

_And the pain of recognition—_

Woke River screaming…

Zoë was the first to her side, amazingly. She had moved into the passenger berth across the hall, in the absence of her husband. Zoë was the type that was thankful for the distraction of River's cries. When Zoë sat upon the edge of her bed, River threw her arms around the woman, pressing her palms to the flat of the warrior's stomach and a place just between her shoulder blades.

In moments, River's door was filled with a sea of concern and irritation, faces poking in to find out what was amiss with the girl who'd been so sane for the past week. Simon and Kaylee did most of the talking, but when River finally calmed down, she steadfastly refused to look at anyone. After a long while, she simply pushed Simon away, and heaved a huge sigh..

"I'm okay.." she lied softly, glancing at the gathered crew in her doorway. "Just a dream." But no matter how often she told herself that, she didn't believe it.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

**Pieces of Eight**

Badger watched them carefully, from beneath the brim of his bowler. He didn't like it when they felt the powerful need to pull back and discuss their options. The dumb mercenary's back blocked most of the good view, but at least he could still see the interesting views. Namely: the curves of the two women, backsides right to the small of their backs. His lips twisted into a sneer, as he let his gaze keep him occupied. But the funniest thing happened, just as he was inspecting the young lass, she fidgeted.

River smoothed her skirt, and plaintively glanced across the group at Zoë. The warrior woman caught her glance, and quirked a brow up. She didn't bother asking the question aloud, because she knew the Reader would simply answer her. River took half a step forward, putting Jayne's entire bulk between herself and Badger's roving eye.

"I do not like the way he looks at me," the girl whispered. Her voice was still raw and strained from all the screaming she did the prior night. Jayne, to his credit, didn't budge an inch, or even pay the girl any attention. He'd never liked Badger, so doing anything to piss the little man off sat just fine with his mind.

Mal mumbled something in Chinese under his breath, and readjusted himself. This time his thumbs hooked into the uncomfortably empty pistol belt, and he scowled as meanly as he could muster at the slip of a girl before him.

"You ken anythin' unnatural-like offa him?" he finally asked, soft and quiet, keeping one eye on Badger's thugs.

River's brow furrowed. Mal had seen that look so often lately that he was starting to get used to it, and to what it meant. She was sorting through all the noise inside her head, a process that could take moments, or minutes, depending on just what she was looking for. Her eyes closed when she found Badger's thoughts, wincing in phantom pain at the volume he projected. She shook her head slightly.

"Nothing… abnormal. He merely knows more than he tells. But…" She seemed to hesitate, which brought Mal and Zoë leaning in a little closer to hear her. Her lips pressed tightly together, but she opened her eyes with a snap. Mal straightened then, finding himself unable to meet her too-wise gaze. "He.. he hides his fear well."

Fear? Mal worried over that like a dog over a bone. What could Badger be afraid of? More than a dozen things popped to his mind instantly. After a mite longer consideration, Mal stepped forward, pushing between Zoë and Jayne.

"Alright, Badger," Mal resumed negotiations as he took his seat once more. "You got yourself a deal, but I don't be takin' kindly to no surprises,_dohn-ma_?"

Badger laughed nervously, lifting both of his grimy hands. "Ah would nevah setcha up fer a job ye cain't handle."

River shivered at his tone, and dismissed a concerned glance from Zoë a moment later. She paid no attention to Mal's dickering over the details. As far as she was concerned, the faster they finished here, the quicker they were away from this unpleasant rock.

Indeed, minutes later they were striding out into the blinding sunlight once more. Jayne lagged behind as he double, and triple checked his girls for any signs of tampering. He'd never shown as much respect for a living being as he'd ever shown for his collection of guns. Only after he was sure that Badger's goons didn't screw with anything, did he set off after the others. Once his long legs had caught him up with everyone else, he simply let himself linger behind, half-listening to their banter. The rest of his attention was on the surroundings, and the Eavesdown docks. Jayne was, after all, just a paid thug most of the time.

"I don't like the way this smells, sir," Zoë mentioned under her breath.

"Don't none of us like the way Badger smells," Mal tried lamely to joke. The sound fell flat between them. "Can't pick too hard at our jobs, just cause the fence ain't whitewashed."

"But River—"

"I'm confident that it was nothing," River cut Zoë off before she could start any sort of argument. The lithe girl walked between the two of them out of habit, her smaller size protecting her from prying eyes from all directions. "Besides, Captain Daddy is right. _Serenity_ needs fuel cells. And the Mustelidae appears to be the only supplier of jobs."

Mal winced at the reminder, while Jayne asked what she'd just said. Ignoring Jayne, River ducked her head in apology. It had been because of her secret that anyone who had been sympathetic to the _Serenity_ had been slaughtered. Jayne pushed his question again, butchering the Latin name even as he tried to say it. At a sour glance from Mal, the mercenary clammed up, and let the silence hold sway until they were all safe inside the Firefly's cargo hold once more.

Gently pulling Kaylee aside, Zoë pressed a small passel of cash into the mechanic's hands. The small advance they managed to get out of Badger would be enough to keep them on their feet for a short while.

"Three hours," Zoë instructed, even as her eyes followed Mal's stormy path through the ship towards the bunks. "Why don't you take Simon?"

"Shiny!" But Kaylee's bright smile faded as she let herself follow Zoë's gaze. "Is… is the Captain okay?"

"He'll be fine; just havin' a moment, is all." Zoë tried to reassure her with a smile, but it was pale and melancholy.

Kaylee fretted silently as she set off to find Simon. And yet, they didn't seem to notice River, who, over time, had gotten very good at being small and insignificant. Jayne, however, snorted softly as he watched her climb to a seat atop a stack of crates, so she could just watch all that went on around her. She glanced up for a moment, as he passed by, and for that moment, their gazes held.

But Jayne kept moving without so much as a blink.

* * *

Kaylee loved the way Simon walked, all upright and straight-like. Their hands were joined between them, swinging without a care in the world. In the past weeks, Kaylee had learned why Wash had done all the supply runs before. There was something about having an innocent face that made getting the good deals a little easier. None of the hawkers ever expected a sweet face to come with some working knowledge.

"Well, that was easier than expected," Simon observed as he climbed into the mule.

Kaylee laughed, and shook her head. "Coulda done better but we got more stops to make."

Simon put on a mock frown, before leaning over to kiss Kaylee's cheek. "And here I thought I would have you all to myself for three hours."

Kaylee blushed and glanced back at the fuel cylinders sitting on the mule. "Well, it won't harm none t' take our time, would it?"

Simon grinned and gave her knee a squeeze as she put both hands on the controls. They pulled slowly away and meandered through the bazaar carefully. "I haven't missed this place," Simon confessed suddenly, feeling the need to fill the silence. At Kaylee's frown, he hastened to explain himself. "This is where it all started… all the running… all the fear…"

"But… there been good times too!" Kaylee was always quick to defend the good times.

Simon couldn't deny that. He nodded instead, smiling in memory. "Yes. And… I am quite happy." Seeing the smile that brought to her face, Simon let himself beam, and silently pat himself on the back. It was so hard to say the right things sometimes. "But sometimes, you know… I wonder…" He sounded almost wistful for a moment, before he sighed and forced himself to continue. "I wonder if River's happy."

"I'm sure she is," Kaylee reached out for a moment to squeeze Simon's arm. "She has all of us now… even Jayne's been a mite nicer'n usual to her…"

Simon laughed nervously. Kaylee was talking about the unexpected gift the mercenary got for his sister some months back: that stuffed white bear in the ballerina dress. River had loved it from the moment she laid eyes on it, even though Simon still didn't trust whatever motives Jayne kept. With a sigh again, he gave in and smiled.

"You're right. I'm just worrying over nothing."

"Like always!" Kaylee giggled.

* * *

Jayne had Vera completely disassembled when River came into the mess. She didn't glance in his direction, even when he glanced up at her for a second. She was barefoot again, but what really caught his attention was the presence of Amanda. The ballerina bear was tucked between her arms, held tight to her chest. Something was bothering the girl. Jayne grunted softly, and tried to ignore the little itch of curiosity. It would only get him into trouble.

She padded almost silently into the kitchen, and started to make herself some tea. After a moment, he heard a second mug set on the counter, and couldn't help but grin. She was always so gorram considerate. He ducked his head slightly and scrubbed at the interior of Vera's barrel, pretending to concentrate on his task, while he weighed his options.

Mal was sulking still. Inara was with some client elsewhere on the planet least for another hour or so. Zoë had retired to her new bunk, and them lovebirds were out cavorting the docks. Which mean he and the crazy girl were pretty much alone for a bit. By the time he'd weighed it all out, she'd finished what she was doing, and come over to the table. A respectful distance away, she put a mug of something steaming for him, while she curled up into her chair not far off.

Amazing how small she could curl up, her knees pulled to her chest, those big moony eyes of hers peering out at him from the hair. He coughed slightly, and reached for his mug. She'd made him what amounted to apple cider, but without any of the extra kick he liked.

After a few moments, of being watched, he grunted and set Vera's parts gently back down. "Alright, I'll bite. What's eting at ya?"

She looked shocked. "Must something bother me that I may sit and watch you clean your weaponry?" Jayne felt a little smug that he'd asked something she didn't expect. But then again, she'd been very smart about reacting to statements the way she was expected to.

He thought on that for a few moments, keeping his hands busy by rearranging Vera's parts. "Well, no.." he confessed a bit confused. "But.. y'got the bear.. and that means somethin's wrong." He jabbed a finger to punctuate the statement, pointing at the little white arm sticking out from behind her knees.

River actually scowled at that. How fair was it that he was getting to understand her so well, when so many of Jayne's motives were still enigmatic? She frowned and stared down into her tea. Jayne didn't push, instead he started putting Vera back together, while waiting for her answer.

"I don't want to go," she murmured finally.

"Shoulda told Mal that earlier." Jayne answered immediately.

"Couldn't speak it before Badger."

"Don't do no good now neither."

She fell silent after that, turning the mug slowly in her hands. She'd yet to taste the contents he noticed. "He wanted to see the look on our faces…"

Jayne looked up sharply as she spoke. "Whassat mean?"

"There's a surprise for us at Athens."

She spoke with such dead straight certainty that it sent a chill up Jayne's spine. His hands twisted the last piece of Vera into place, with a sharp click. He shook his head as he pushed his chair up. "We're just goin' t'liberate some salvage, s'all. No surprises there." Jayne paused, expecting River to get up as he had, but she remained curled up. He motioned for her impatiently. "C'mon now. We got time for a quick round."

She unfolded herself from the chair then, smiling in a way that made him think everything could be right with the world.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**A Round & A Dream**

Twice a week, sometimes more if Jayne was feeling especially ornery; but that was the deal. Mal had suckered him into it; the whole idea of fighting with River on purpose still baffled him. But of course the captain made it clear that he wanted to know what he was dealing with, and what she was capable of (aside from mopping the floor with one Jayne Cobb, and a whole passel of Reavers). So, that meant twice a week, he let himself get used as a punching bag.

He still couldn't hurt her, as the threat of being spaced still hung like a shroud over his choices. Jayne knew that the first day his fist connected would be the last day of his time on Serenity. Besides, on her side of things, he was sure that she was just waiting for the chance to frame him.

Moony had trailed him down to the cargo bay, and she spent a few moments securing the bear in a safe place. He found himself watching her carefully as she moved, but, when he remembered her comment about Badger, he pulled his eyes away. Finally, she came to stand before him, a few meters distant.

"'Member what I tolja last time: don't worry none 'bout hurtin' me." She bit her lip, and glanced up before nodding. Jayne continued as he settled into position, his hands loosely balled up before him. "Now… come at me like I'm gonna hurt ya."

"But you wou-"

Jayne snarled, cutting off her protest midword. Admirably, she didn't flinch from his anger, even though all of his pent-up energy just flared into aggression. It wasn't fair that he were being forced to be the guinea pig just because he could take a punch. It was less fair that he couldn't strike _back_. "Fine!" he growled, taking a step forward. "Hit me like I'm gonna hurt that pansy-ass brother a-yers!"

River blinked at that. Jayne had often threatened Simon, but that was the first time, in a very long while, that he'd actually felt like he would carry through with the threat. Her confusion faded slowly away into a strangely impassive expression. When she shifted her stance, Jayne grinned. _There_ was the girl who put him down at the Maidenhead! That was the weapon who leapt through the blast doors to face down Reavers! She came at him alright, closing the distance in two elegant steps.

He leaned back to avoid her first strike, a sweeping roundhouse punch. Her momentum carried her through and around, so she shifted her weight once more, compensating as easily and smoothly as a dancer should. Her trailing leg snapped up, aimed to drive heavily into his side. Jayne barely got his arms tucked into his ribs to block the blow, absorbing it with his forearms. Still, he grunted, and back-stepped to keep his balance.

River gave herself a shake at his sound, and concern flashed in her face. She put a hand out toward him, as though she would check to be sure he was unharmed. Jayne however, smacked her concern away with a loud slap.

"Would ya quit being so gorram sweet!?" he practically roared, leaning down into her face. "Ya ain't got the stones t'break me! So stop frettin' like a girl, an' **hit** me!"

She wavered. Even Jayne didn't think of her as anything but a weapon. Mal had referred to her as a tool to be used once. Only Simon saw the person inside still. Her eyes widened as Jayne barely restrained the urge to hit her. She stepped back, out of the confrontation, and turned suddenly away.

Jayne threw his hands up with a word. Now what? The gorram girl was so confusing! Here, he'd thought they'd gotten to an understanding! No matter how he enjoyed getting to play-fight with her; it was something he was being forced to do. And he never let on that he liked anything Mal forced him into. But her… gorram it, he just couldn't get it. She was just too nice to kill anyone!

Suddenly, she sniffled. Jayne glanced sharply at her back. Was she crying? Despite himself, his eyes were instantly drawn to the curve of her neck, exposed by the way her hair parted over her little shoulders. Just below her hairline, just where the spine connected with the skull, there lay a telltale ridge of raised skin, a white scar against her paleness. Jayne hesitated; he couldn't stand it when girl's cried.

Girls were meant to be laughing, or writhing, either way, with pleasure. Not crying and sad. Muttering to himself, he stepped back to her, putting first one, then both hands on her small shoulders. "Now, don't go getti-" He felt the tension in her back just a moment too late.

The wind rushed right out of his lungs as her elbow drove hard into his stomach. She reached up after and grabbed his head, hooking one foot between his legs to twist his knees out from beneath him. As he buckled, and fought to draw a breath, she used his own downward momentum to crack his jaw against the bony part of her shoulder.

Jayne went down like a sack of bricks, flat onto his face. He figured he must have blacked out for a few moments, cause he came to on his back, with small, cool fingers pressing against his wrist. She was making sure he was still alive. As he stirred, she lay a hand on his chest, keeping him down without exerting much pressure.

"No one cares for the weapon," she informed him softly, an odd sadness in her eyes. "I do not wish to _be_ the weapon." When she rose, smooth as silk, Jayne only followed her with his eyes; his head too muddled to form words. She went to the small bear, and retrieved it with care. Smoothing the fur around the teddy bears muzzle, she sighed. "I had believed Jayne would understand that. Too much confidence laid."

She was addressing the stuffed bear, but the words cut Jayne just as sharply. She lingered for a moment, as though waiting for him to justify something. When he could not form a single word in his mind, she left the cargo bay, and him behind.

Jayne was still lying on the floor when Kaylee pulled the mule back in.

Simon glanced at the mercenary and waited for him to get up. Jayne was paid to move the heavy stuff, after all. When the man-ape hadn't budged by the time Kaylee parked the mule and started unloading the smaller bits, Simon grew uneasy. Just as he was about to pose some manner of question, Jayne rolled himself up and climbed the long distance to his feet.

He didn't even look sideways at Simon as he went about his task of unloading and stowing the supplies. Simon started slightly as Kaylee goosed him on her way past. He picked up a load of parts, and followed her toward the engine room.

"Everybody's so happy today," he remarked once they were clear of anyone else. He tried to smile when Kaylee took the boxes from his arms, but it didn't really happen that well. She perked up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, but reached behind him to flip the comm switch.

"We're home, cap'n. Everything's shiny."

She was answered by a static-filled grunt. After a few moments, Mal clarified his answer. "Once Inara docks, we're off this rock."

Simon breathed a sigh of relief, and then inhaled the warm greased-scent of Kaylee. He didn't want to admit it, but being off Persephone would be good. This world held too many memories.

* * *

The second day in the black. River had been studiously careful to avoid most everyone. She had gotten very good at acting right, when she needed to. Athens was still another full day out, and the autopilot was doing just fine. Yet, she felt the need to be in the pilot's chair, curled up with her knees drawn to her chest. She held one of Wash's tyrannosaurs gently between her fingers.

Staring at it, she listened to how badly he was missed. Even though they had agreed to leave the dinosaurs sprawled over the console, no one played with them. Or rather, no one would admit to it. Mal moved the dinosaurs around regularly when he was alone on deck. As did Zoë. It was River who made the stories, long, complicated tales of loss and love, and tragedy. But it was all in her head.

She turned the plastic figure over in her hands, worrying her lower lip gently. She remembered with crystal clear clarity of a debate she entered with Wash about the vagaries of the dinosaur theories. Reaching forward, she shook herself out of the memory, and placed the tyrannosaur into it's new place, a menacing and threatening position above the gentle stegosaur. She then reclined, tilting her head back to rest against the chair.

Despite her best efforts, as she gazed out the fore viewports at the passing black, she slowly dozed off.

_The very earth quaked with the passage of the creatures. River knew what they were by scientific name, each and every one of them. They moved along, five of the ancient, extinct lizards from Earth-that-Was. Carnivores and herbivores in a mixed herd. It took some time, but they moved around a bend, magically out of sight. River started, and lurched into motion. She felt strange, her legs bent oddly, her hands curled to her chest naturally._

_She was a_Parvicursor remotus, _a tiny, fast-moving carnivore. She found herself darting down a hillside that had not existed moments before. Found herself dodging the wide tree-trunk legs of a _Pachyrhinosaurus_. It looked down, beady eyes focusing on her over the broad, flattened hump of bone that gave it its name._

"_Humph." It spoke. River nearly fell over. "About time you joined us." Not only did it speak, but it used Mal's voice. The dinosaurs massive head angled upward. "Coming down, Inara?"_

_River tilted her tiny reptilian head upward. And watched in awe as a massive pteranodon, no… a _Quetzalcoatlus northropi_, touched down, and folded its long fleshy wings elegantly. It settled in to watch the rest aloofly, but River swore the creature smiled._

_Her mind reeled. Dinosaurs. Dinosaurs go extinct. That's what they do. Why they were. Something nudged her from behind, and she felt her small body roll to one side. Looking up again, she found herself face-to-duck-bill with a horse-faced theropod. _Maiasaura_. It could only be Simon. There was no chance to find out, as a great toothy maw interposed between the duck-bill and her own cursor form_.

"_Don't be coddlin' her none." The voice was Jayne's, and River found herself shivering to see it coming from the largest carnivore to roam Earth-that-Was: the _Spinosaurus marocannus_. That meant that the small, slender-jawed _Procampsognathus_ was Kaylee. River sidestepped… and the venue changed._

_They now stood in a ring on a desolate, war-torn world, the rubble of buildings strewn about. The sun beamed down heavily upon them, through a haze of ash and fire. It was smiling, a great black gash across the face of the star, and two piercing blue eyes staring down at them. Around the star, hung a halo, and about that halo flew a four-winged creature, battling to stay aloft. River recognized the _Microraptor_ easily, but the distorted, sing-song voice took longer to know…_

"_Round and round the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel!"_

_Suddenly, the_Velociraptor _began to flail about, straining flightless down-covered wings, and lashing it's long tail. Zoë knew as well. The creature above was Wash. The sun was getting larger and larger, a blazing fireball of red and orange. Everyone, all the dinosaur-family she had ever know, was leaping into the air, snatching with jaws and claws at the fluttering ghost of a man. And the sun continued to fall._

_And the danger never registered with the rest of them. River screamed as the sun landed, exploding into a fireball of light and noise. The blast wave rolled over them, and River could only watch helplessly as the dinosaur flesh was torn from human shapes._

_But amid it all, something approached, some dark shape against the fury of fire. Blue eyes blazed out like living beacons, locking and holding River's terrified mind._

"_You can't run from me."_

River woke with a half-swallowed scream to the sensation of being shaken. She flailed to free herself from the confines of the chair, and nearly slipped in a panic to the floor. Zoë's dark eyes filled with concern even though she didn't quite know how to handle the girl's panic. After a moment, when River finally grasped her surroundings, Zoë leaned forward once more, and took hold of the slender shoulders.

"Come on, honey, lets get you to bed." The warrior woman suggested with surprising gentleness. Putting a bit of pressure on River's shoulders, she tried to usher the girl out of the pilot's seat. River wouldn't budge however. She was scared, and shaking, and the last thing River wanted was more sleep.

"No!" she barely kept her voice below a shout, flinching out of Zoë's grasp. "No more sleep. No more Athens. We can't go there. Don't you get it. We can't go, because all dinosaurs go extinct!" River moved swiftly, faster than Zoë had ever seen her go, and with one sweep of her arm, knocked every last one of Wash's dinosaurs from their place on the console.

Everything that was soft inside Zoë's heart steeled right up again. She drew herself up, and found her best commanding tone hiding somewhere within all the pain and grief. "Git. Out of here. Now." She pointed then, back down the hall, away from the cockpit.

River couldn't find herself beneath that iron glare. Instead, she sprinted away, down the hall, disappearing before Zoë even cared to look after her. The widow barely held it together as she carefully began to pick up the precious last pieces of her husband's presence aboard _Serenity._


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

**Blazedown City, Athens**

Zoë had stayed behind too easily when they made landfall. Mal couldn't put his finger on it, but something just didn't fit right. Granted, most of his worry was for the task at hand, but some small section of his mind always feared for his crew. They had checked everything out repeatedly, and still everything came up roses, right down to the license from United Reclamation that Badger had slipped them.

But that still didn't mean Mal was about to let his guard down. The events of St. Albans, and the near loss of his crew to exposure on the frigid planet sat too clearly in his mind. Since then, someone handy with guns had always stayed behind in a potentially hostile environment. Still no one, least of all Zoë, had ever just up and volunteered. Something was going on that he didn't see. And that never made him comfortable.

But, he trusted Zoë. Even if she didn't share them, the former Corporal always had her reasons. She'd eventually come out with it, even if it took her weeks. While he kicked that worry for Zoë out of his head, another one surfaced in its place. He caught sight of River, slouched and petulant in her seat on the mule. Her zest for life, her eagerness to always help out, seemed drowned by the same bug that was eating Zoë. She was wordless as she adjusted her ridiculously large goggles on her tiny face.

Simon lingered by the mule's side, talking quietly with his sister. He was suddenly jostled, and shoved by the larger bulk of Jayne Cobb pushing by with the last few bits of salvage equipment. Glaring at the doctor, Jayne strapped the box into the seat in front of River. Mal's brows drew down; even the mercenary seemed that much more sour.

It's all Badger's fault, Mal believed. None of the crew trusted the fence-man, and the job seemed too easy.

Mal pulled himself up into the pilot's seat on the mule, as Jayne stowed a gun or two in the rear hatches. Simon reached up to pat his sister's arm.

"You're worrying about nothing, _mei-mei_." He assured her, with a smile. The expression looked strained; Simon still hadn't learned how to lie. "It could be worse. Jayne could be driving."

"Hey!" Jayne barked his protest, leaning a bit over River to point at the doctor.

"Jayne," Mal cut him off with the tone of his voice, before any argument could arise. Shaking his head, he turned toward Kaylee. "Keep the engine hot; can't be too careful." Even as he swung back to resettle himself, he caught sight of warm maroon silk, and gold trim. Inara watched from the catwalk. When he caught her gaze, she smiled in a soft, reassuring way.

Suddenly, Mal felt like he could take on the world.

"Let's get movin'!" Jayne muttered, lowering his own goggles. Mal grinned wryly at his enthusiasm. At least someone would have some fun today. With a slight salute, he put the mule in gear, and eased it down the ramp.

Mal took his time maneuvering the hovering skiff through the outskirts of the bombed out city. He'd never actually served on Athens during the war, but the stories he'd heard didn't do the horror justice. He carefully kept his eyes forward, and his mouth shut. Even Jayne had the good sense to keep his lips clammed.

Even seven years after the war, the cities of Athens still hadn't been touched. They remained bombed out shells, half-standing buildings rocking precariously in the winds. That wind bucked over anything in its path, keeping nearly everything dust free. It scoured away footprints, and stole the sounds of the living. Even though machinery loomed at the edges of the city, the interior was still largely untouched.

While Mal was looking for the church, Jayne was watching River out of the corner of his eye. She was shaking. Her whole little body was quivering like she were cold. The same urge that had caused him to buy the bear seized hold of him, and he fought against reaching out toward her.

If she was having one of her fits, he figured, she'd use it against him. He knew he would if their roles were reversed. She must have caught him looking at her, because she started suddenly, her whole body lurching away from him. When she fixed him with that wild-eyed stare, he felt about four inches tall. She knew so much.

Before he could feel like she was laying any more of his secrets bare, Jayne leaned forward to talk into Mal's ear against the wind. "More'n the middle," he suggested, not even thinking. "Church's center 'a life."

Mal's brow twisted weirdly at the suggestion, but he twisted the controls and directed the mule over some of the worst of the rubble. Leaning back again, Jayne caught a mumble from beside him. River was talking to herself again, her fingers moving as though she were counting frantically. He let the movement linger on the edge of his vision for long minutes, as the mule drifted between shorn buildings, and burnt out husks. Finally, unable to take any more of it, he reached out to grab both her hands inside one of his.

"Easy, pixie." He didn't dare to speak louder than a whisper; he didn't dare risking Mal's attention. She heard him; he knew it from the way she looked up. "Ain't nothin' here's gonna hurt ya." Her fingers still moved inside his grasp, and she suddenly leaned into him. Her voice was so tiny and small, that he had to bend his ear nearly to her mouth to hear her. He was so gorram dead if Mal so much as glanced back…

"They're all still here, all still screaming… like static on a wave…"

Jayne stared down at her, completely clueless. And suddenly, she jerked away, pulling her hands free and sitting straight up again, just as Mal settled the mule down on an empty piece of rock.

"This would be it." Mal muttered, before turning halfway around to check on Jayne and River. River's eyes were latched on the fallen in roof of the church, while Jayne was already strapping on his weaponry. "Don't like stealin' from the religious types much," Mal was talking, just to hear himself talk. "Even if they've been dead 'n gone seven years now."

His boots crunched across the busted up concrete and plastics. Seven years, and no one had been allowed to come in and clean up. Seven years since the cities had been bombed to dust and skeletons. Seven years it had taken the Alliance to clean out the civilian corpses, and the most sensitive pieces of work. Mal knew a cover-up when he saw one, but somehow, Athens seemed much less important since the days on Miranda.

He glanced to see River slowly sliding off the mule, touching down lightly on the ground as though she was loathe to touch it. She had pushed her goggles up until they sat atop her head, like a giant set of bug eyes looking into the unseen world. Her boots crunched lightly as she picked her way over to him. Jayne was much, much less delicate in his approach, and something shattered beneath his tread. Picking his foot up quickly, Jayne caught his myriad reflections in the shattered pieces of a chunk of glass.

Raising his gaze, he caught Mal's pointed look. The mercenary fell into easy step behind the slip of a girl, while Mal took point. Jayne kept a low grip on his gun, while Mal kept his own pistol loosely held by his thigh. River needed no weapon. She was the weapon. Jayne mentally smacked himself for thinking that way, especially after what she'd told the bear the day before. He glanced toward her to make sure she hadn't picked up on his slip.

But River was too concerned with the static of ghosts in the air about her. Her eyes followed unseen movements, shapes flitting through the shadows. The doors of the church hung open on busted hinges, allowing the three to slip inside. The interior was dust filled, the window howling in the busted bell tower. The bell itself lay on its side in the center of the floor, rusted and cracked in two from it's fall. River hugged herself.

"So many ghosts," she whispered into the stillness.

Jayne stifled a nervous chuckle. Her creepiness was rubbing off on him, as his eyes jumped from shadow to shadow, expecting the worst of things to leap out. Mal coughed softly, and gestured for Jayne to move up.

"Some sorta cellar, we're lookin' fer. Well hidden, else the Alliance woulda already cleaned it out." He gestured to the corners behind the hunk of marble that must have served for the altar. "We best be ge—"

River looked up sharply as Mal cut himself off mid-sentence. His head hung loose on his neck, chin touching his chest. His pistol seemed almost ready to slip out of his lax fingers. Idly, as she slipped up to stand beside the rightfully bewildered Jayne, River wondered if the captain had come down with a severe case of narcolepsy. Jayne laid a hand on Mal's arm, ready to jostle him.

But River laid her hand on Jayne's arm, stopping him, and lifting her eyes to meet his. Her lower lip hung open, like she felt the need to speak, and while she looked up at him, she must have realized something. River dropped her hand without so much as a word.

"Mal?" Jayne found his voice the moment her fingers left his arm. He continued through with his motion, grabbing Mal by the left bicep.

River didn't even have time to blink. Mal snapped from standing lax and loose, to an immediate threat. In the split second it took Jayne to grab hold of his arm, Mal had pivoted on one foot, his head jerking up, as his gun-arm came around to bear. Jayne hardly had the forethought to draw a breath before he found himself staring down the wrong end of Mal's piece.

"Oh, now, Mal, easy…" Jayne finally got the words out, releasing Mal's arm, and taking half a step back.

River had frozen. She was staring at Malcolm's face. Yes, it was the captain's face; the captain's trademark grimace of concentration… but those were not the captain's eyes. Those tiny, hard flint-colored specs had never been there before. The captains eyes should be blue… soft and blue… kind and blue… not like tempered steel. Those eyes flicked toward her.

"Oh, River. River. River." Mal's voice spoke the words, but he had never used that chiding, disappointed tone with her. "You were supposed to be the best. We were going to be a team…" Mal was using proper English as well, which got Jayne's attention. "The best. You and I."

Slowly, River began to shake her head in response. Mal's lips twisted into a sadistic little smirk, not a becoming expression on the captain's face.

"Mal?" Jayne had to ask again, taking that half step forward once more.

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave a message. The captain is a little… indisposed right now." Mal's gun hand tensed.

River felt the action before it was ever made. She leapt, grabbing Mal's right arm and pushing hard. He gave a cry of outrage, but it was drowned by the explosive report of the pistol's discharge. River felt the pain, felt the shock and betrayal ripple through her system. But they were not her own thoughts…

"NO!" she shrieked, her lungs filled with the scent of cordite. She brought her weight to bear, and cracked Mal's wrist into her knee. The gun clattered against the rubble. Turning quickly, River knew the blood drained from her face…

How Jayne was still standing, she couldn't tell. But the expression on his face, brow wrinkled in helpless pain, confusion staining his eyes cloudy. His hand slowly came away from his chest, dripping scarlet onto the already desecrated ground. For a moment, he stared at Mal.

"You…" Jayne's lips flecked with blood at the creation of the word. "You… shot me?" Jayne's knees buckled slowly beneath him, as he fell senseless to the ground.

"Eight little monkeys… jumping on the bed…"


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Chase

River didn't have enough time to get to Jayne, as he fell. Even as she knew it could have been worse, some strange flower opened up inside her, blocking out the fear and worry, but turning her whole world into a scarlet haze. She dropped, flattening herself to the ground in an instinctive reaction. Wind whistled over her head as Mal's roundhouse missed its mark. Pushing herself up with her hands, she lashed out backward with a boot. The heavy heel caught the kneecap of her captain with a satisfying crunch. As Mal howled in pain, River felt a flash of the real still there, buried.

She scrambled forward, over the rubble to where Jayne lay in a motionless heap. She had to work fast, before Mal shook off that minor inconvenience and hobbled after her. She wriggled out of her sweater, wadding it up quickly. Simon's voice ran through her head, delineating medical steps to take and stabilization measure that had to be done to ensure the survival of a victim of a sucking chest wound. She didn't have time for that! Shaking Simon's voice from her, she pressed the sweater against Jayne's chest, and begged him silently to wake up.

She had no right to feel dismayed at Jayne's lack of response to her silent missives. So, she crossed one of his arms over his own chest, to hold the makeshift compress to the bullet hole. She estimated that the dead weight of that muscular appendage would be sufficient to aid in blood clotting.

River heard the roll of the antique hammer, and pivoted to face Malcolm as she rose up. He had this little grin on his lips that made River feel extremely dirty; Mal simply did not leer. But, she had already determined that it was Not-Mal staring out at her from behind those eyes. It was Not-Mal who had shot Jayne. And it was Not-Mal who was going to shoot her if she could not line her ducks up in a row.

Frantically, River scrambled for the pieces of her mind. No guns. No knives. Even Jayne's derringer lay out of her reach. She hadn't been able to protect them. Some weapon she was.

"Weapons are no greater than the hand wielding them." Not-Mal breathed the words while the gun slipped over aiming at her, to point slowly back down at Jayne. "Eight little monkeys, jumping on the bed..."

River recognized the rhyme suddenly, as memory clicked into place. "One fell down... and broke his crown..." she finished in a whisper. Her eyes flickered to the gun, and suddenly, she knew. He was about to kill Jayne. And she was not about to let that happen. River made no sound of warning as she lunged forward.

Her shoulder caught the stomach of Not-Mal, and she pushed with her feet, thankful for the boots that caught and gripped well on the broken concrete. The gun went off again, but River felt no answering surge of pain. There was no sick crack of skull, or wet sluice of gray matter. She ground her teeth together, and abruptly pulled away. The dance was taking over, each step intricate and quick. Not-Mal seemed clumsy with his hands; his reactions slowed and delayed. Resistance. Mal was inside, fighting Not-Mal. River was sure of it.

Not-Mal swung the pistol around, butt-first. River's hands darted up to intercept, her left grabbing the gun itself, while her right chopped into the supporting elbow. Still holding on, she bent that arm, pivoted herself, until she felt her back against the chest. Left hand released, arms rammed back into the soft folds of stomach. She thrust her hip out. Mal's body had height, which she could use to her shorter advantage. Bending, she dragged down on the leading gun-hand, effectively flipping Not-Mal over her head, and slamming his weight full force down on the broken bits of concrete.

The slam left Not-Mal gasping for air, cursing silently. River scrambled around the grasping hands, and bolted once more for Jayne's side. He was still breathing, but he rattled, and bubbled with each breath. Lung collapsing? She would not allow herself to dwell on it. His thoughts fluttered weakly inside his head. She grabbed his face between her hands, and dared to shake him.

"UP! Up! Sapiens must rise!" River shouted in his face, jarring his thoughts. Eyes fluttered open, blue momentarily rolled up to white. His gaze wouldn't focus. "Seventeen paces!"

"Whuh?" His voice was slurred. River closed her eyes, feeling the panic creep in on the outskirts of her mind. Focus was the key here. When she pushed his arm back up against his chest, Jayne gasped through the sudden clarity granted by pain.

"The mule. Seventeen paces. We must go! Now!" The reiteration stuck this time, and Jayne began the laborious effort to get to his feet.

Not-Mal was getting up as well. River slid back to a vertical base, half a mind with Jayne, while the other half danced. Not-Mal was on his hands and knees, so River dropped into a crouch on one leg, to sweep-kick his arms out from beneath him. Not-Mal shoved himself up upward at the last second, coming down with his hands to capture River's leg.

He squeezed so hard she could feel the buckles of her boots imprinting on her flesh. "Why didn't you take us with you?" Not-Mal suddenly sounded like a small, frail child, brow knit with a devastating sorrow. River could not steel herself against the emotional onslaught that began when her eyes met his. "Things got so much worse after you left…"

"No…" whispered words tore like tissue against the knife-edge of memories.

"Yes. Remember little Min? She got it first, beat to death in her cell."

River saw it. Min's soft face cracked and bleeding; scarlet hands and jagged fingernails scratching and kicking. River tried to pull her leg back, but Not-Mal kept her down. A soft, wet cough from behind her jerked half her mind back to the merc. Every step was agony; but there was a cold creeping through him.

They were nearly out of time. _Five… six… _ The moments between paces were forever. River let Jayne's pain seep through her, filling the cracks between the emotional world, and the physical one.

"You are not the captain," she stated suddenly. River shifted her weight, freeing a hand. Her heel struck Not-Mal's nose square on. _Eight… Nine…_ Cartilage snapped under her hand, and a satisfying wet splash of blood fell down Not-Mal's face. The tactic worked. Not-Mal howled in pain and released her leg to hold onto his broken nose.

River jerked her foot back, and then kicked it out once more, planting the sole of the boot against Not-Mal's chest, and shoving him over backwards. She pounced atop him like a spry cat, straddling his chest… _Twelve… Thir… Thirteen. _Raising her right fist, River felt a twinge of fear from the man beneath her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, before throwing all her weight behind the haymaker. For a split second, before her knuckles connected, the sinister light flickered out of the blue eyes. Not-Mal had left, but she could not stop the blow.

* * *

Zoë tilted her head back in the pilot's chair. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she imagined she could still smell Wash on the fabric. It was a dream to think the pain would ever go away, even if it had only been mere weeks. Her life was now one of rote memory, trying desperately to complete the tasks that her husband would have once distracted her from. Even just the act of sitting in the pilot's chair, and watching consoles, was taxing on her emotional reserves.

She rubbed her forehead lightly with one hand, letting her eyes drift shut. She still had her connection to Wash. The dinosaurs were still in their places. The T-Rex had always been Wash's favorite, and it still held the place of honor. Zoë opened her eyes again, and leaned forward, picking up the object and turning it slowly over in her hands.

She felt a tiny smile touch her lips. She could still hear Wash's voice growling and trying to sound all menacing. The blink of an LED from red to green caught her attention. The airlock was closing, and sealing. That would mean the captain was back with the loot. Zoë started to stand up as the inter-ship comm crackled.

" I Zoë, if you're ud dere, ged dis gorram ship in d'air, nowd/I "

She started at the thick sound of Mal's command. "Yes, sir!" she replied without even thinking about it. Piloting was an essential skill, and Zoë had learned from the best. She moved through the sequences, and had to assume the best of things. Curiosity ate at her as she battled against the winds and jet streams that made Athens dangerous airspace. Why'd Mal sound so odd? What was the urgency? Why hadn't he radioed prior to docking to tell them the cargo was secure? It felt like it took forever to break atmo, and get into a safe lane.

She banged out a rough course heading and engaged the autopilot. Jumping up, she stuffed the plastic Trex in her vest pocket and bolted for the stairs. Two at a time, through the ship she headed, straight lining for the cargo bay. Except, the bay was empty. The mule hadn't even been put away properly, and was lying diagonal across the floor. Zoë had a proper mind to start scolding people for treating her baby like that. Her irritation faded when she spotted the scarlet splatters leading away from the vehicle.

Covering her mouth with her hand, Zoë began to follow the trail. It led, as she knew it would down to the infirmary. Her boots echoed loudly on the stairs, but only Kaylee looked up. The mechanics's eyes were red-rimmed. She sat with one arm around a small trembling form that could only have been River. Inara knelt by River's feet, a small washbasin in her hands with a sponge.

The water was brilliant red, and still the Companion gently sponged off the girl's hands. Zoe opened her mouth to ask, and Kaylee's eyes darted toward the infirmary itself. The doors were swung shut, and the view through the porthole offered little explanation. Zoë half climbed the stairs once more and peered into the side window.

Mal was tensely standing on one side of Simon, jumping to every request or whim the doctor gave. Mal's face… both his eyes were blackened, his nose taped. But otherwise, he looked no worse for wear… Jayne on the other hand… the big man dominated the small table, his arms spilling over haphazardly. Zoë peeled her eyes away from the gaping chest wound; even though she had seen worse in the war, it was never a pretty sight.

The former Corporal looked back down at the three women. There were a dozen reasons that Inara would be cleaning blood off River's hands. Zoë prayed to whatever was listening that it was because of River's quick medical-like thinking. Zoë set down on the steps at a point where she was able to watch the interior of the infirmary, as well as the others.

"What happened?" she asked softly.

River whimpered in response. Kaylee gently began to smooth her hair once more, and she pulled the younger one into her arms a little more firmly. "She ain't talkin'." Kaylee admitted, carefully.

"And we were pointedly ignored by Mal," Inara supplied. She set the bowl aside and held onto River's clean hands. She still hadn't stopped shaking. "Jayne was babbling when Simon put him under."

River shuddered violently, tearing her hands away from Inara's. She pressed her face into the hollow of Kaylee's neck, as though blotting out the world could save her from the pain she felt. Kaylee hugged her _mei mei_. The two of them looked so helpless and frail.

A flurry of motion from the interior of the infirmary caught Zoë's eyes. Mal's big head blocked her view for a few moments; until he moved away from the drawer that he was looking through. She was relieved to see Simon carefully stitching up the three-inch hole in Jayne's chest. Mal rubbed the back of his neck, and abruptly looked out the window. His eyes connected with Zoë's for a split second, and he vacated the infirmary a moment later.

"You look like hell, sir," Zoë observed quietly as she was drawn aside.

"We headed back do Perse'one?" Mal spoke gingerly around his broken nose. When Zoë nodded, Mal let out a belly full of air he hadn't been aware of holding. "We hid dat rodent hard, 'nd he'll dell uds whud we wanna know."

"What… what happened?" Zoë for once, sounded a little unsure. She didn't think she wanted to know. Zoë motioned toward River, and then toward the infirmary, with her eyes. But her most pointed look was at Mal's busted nose.

"Ain'd righdly sure I know.." The confession was soft, and Mal shook his head. He'd never be able to explain this. Not in a thousand years. He turned once more, looking toward River. She must have felt his gaze, because she picked her head up from Kaylee's shoulder.

"Passenger inside your own head." She stated softly, her voice thick. Mal realized with a start that she'd been crying, good and hard. "Watching through eyes that glared and speaking with a foul mouth. Used. Sock puppet."

Both Inara and Kaylee moved to smooth River's hair as she closed her eyes. River's left hand curled into a fist, that hovered over her slim chest. Almost as though she were warding something off. She opened her eyes again, and focused them on Mal.

"Chase."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**Backslide**

"Chase."

One word. That was all it ever seemed to take. River felt her mind drop out from beneath her, trapdoors that she'd so carefully hidden beneath a layer of home and happiness opening up to swallow her consciousness whole. She gasped as she plunged into the ice cold water of her memories.

_Eight of them made it to the final classes. It was not something to be celebrated. Shivering violently in the flimsy slip of a shift they supplied her with, River stared wild-eyed at the blank wall before them. In thirty-five seconds the deluge would begin again. One of them would break One of them would shatter into a thousand tiny pieces, and be taken away to never be seen again. The first to flinch would go._

_The noise started first, static… voices…hover-cars, and clanging bells. Claxons, and sirens, explosions… and then River began to feel it. Death. Candles snuffing out. In great gasps. Bombs spreading dust and death, ballooning into the air with chemical precisions. Fear._

_She was going to break. She knew it. Break in two, torn by her resolve that Simon would save her, and her dread that she would rot forever in this manufactured hell. Somewhere down the line; someone screamed. Bloody and loud._

_Someone else broke…_

_The deluge stopped, and River's eyes snapped open. Eyes turned toward the screamer, lying wrapped up on the floor. Riley Johnstone, age fifteen, Core-bred from Bernadette. Squalling like an infant on the floor. The boy standing beside River had not looked at Riley's poor state. Instead, he fixed clear grey eyes on his peer._

"_Eight little monkeys, jumping on the bed." He intoned with a smile._

Memory flashed… the world moved from cold to hot… Voices crammed down around her, accusations flying. The words all jumbled up… sounds streaked into colors.

"_D'un yi shia_ Mal, there are _Go hwong_ _mei-mei_ What did I'm de one dat _tong_ you come do to bigger my sister back god da piss this ain't out now things helpin' beat oudda me any to wor---"

River began to scream.

_Strapped into place, wrists bound, ankles bound. A metal bar across her forehead kept her from thrashing. Another around her chin kept her from wiggling her jaw. Immobile, helpless. Her thoughts dwelled on home, struggled to find solace and comfort in the faces of her mother, her father, and her brother. Faces melted. All one blur of flesh. Doctors. Nurses. Scientists. Endless tests._

_A puff of aerosol medicine across her eyes made her jerk in her seat, but nothing gave. Fine motor control faded as the drugs took effect, disabling her ocular muscles, and forcing her eyes to become fixated on one point._

_The shiny, sharp point of the needle, hovering four inches before her. The whimper of fear was not her own, however; she long ago stopped giving them the satisfaction of hearing her terror. There were two others strapped in, an empty chair at the rear,, all at ninety degrees from one another. She could not see them, although she could feel them. Next door, an identical laboratory held the four other 'cadets'. There was screaming as fourteen needles slowly punctured fourteen eyeballs._

_The needles slipped through the cornea as though it were little more than a film of water. The strange sense of pressure passed quickly as the needle sliced through the lens, an apparatus, River knew, would be amended and fixed, later. As the needle pushed farther, into the aqueous vitreous, River's mind filled with sights and sounds. Forms and steps, strikes and touches, a hundred and fifty seven ways to kill a man with a pencil. It all had bled into her eyes, and the pain she felt was amplified by the presence of the others._

_Somewhere, someone snapped. The pieces fell apart and shattered across the floor. Whether it was in the room with her, or not, hadn't mattered to River. Someone else was gone. Someone else would be taken away by the men with blue hands. Someone else would be forgotten before the morning lights rose in the compound._

_And somewhere… in her thoughts… Chase found the courage to whisper: "Seven little monkeys… jumpin' on the bed…"_

River lurched away from hands trying to steady her. She bit down hard on a hand trying to silence her. Kicking feet, and flailing arms, she frantically fought to retain her autonomy. Her words sloughed off languages like each one was a passing craze. Latin. Chinese. English. A spattering of Greek and even choice phrases in Tamese, the language she had created when she was eight.

It took four sets of hands clamped down around her arms, yanking her back and holding her down. She knew the sharp pinprick against the soft inner bend of her elbow all too well.

"No," she begged in a tiny voice, which seemed to go unheard. "Don't send me back there…" She fought the drug as valiantly as she had fought the holding hands. Thrashing in her mind, and straining against the slowly solidifying bars around her mind. "No… no…" she whispered softly. "Don't let him in…"

The black crept in on the edge of her perception. It smiled at her welcomingly, as though promising that there would be no horrors held within. River still fought, desperately trying to swim upstream, to warn her family of the dangers they were in. But the riptide of the darkness was too much.

Gasping for air, River Tam slipped under, and fell completely lax onto the floor.

Inara fell back against the bulkhead, holding her hand gingerly. She had never seen River so willing to hurt her family, had never been on the receiving end of such a tirade. Completely shaken, but determined not to let it show, she gathered herself up quickly. River had not managed to break the skin, but the Companion would sport an interesting bruise at the base of her index finger the next morning. She folded her hand carefully into the fabric of her sari. She would be one less thing the good doctor would have to worry about.

Simon held one hand over his forehead, staring in depressive disbelief at the crumpled form of his sister. Inara could understand those feelings; they had all been hoping that River was getting better. The silence was so complete, that Inara imagined she could hear the pulse throbbing in that one little vein in Mal's forehead, the one that always popped when he was stressed.

No matter how badly she wanted to, she refused to reach out toward him. Instead, she lightly touched Simon's arm, and then Kaylee's. Her intermediary touch seemed to draw them together like opposite ions. Kaylee slipped her arm through Simon's and held on tightly. Inara withdrew to the background once more, as the motion seemed to break the pall.

"I still wouldn't mind some explainin'." Zoë mentioned idly into the quiet. Her dark eyes gestured toward the infirmary first, then Mal's busted up face, and finally to River and her fan of dark hair.

Words broke the stun. Simon knelt by River's head, smoothing her hair gently, and glancing up at Kaylee. The wordless question was answered as the mechanic stepped around, and slipped her hands under River's legs. The girl weighed less than most power converters, and between the two of them, they moved her into the infirmary, as well. All remaining eyes settled on Mal.

The captain threw his arms into the air. "Hell be if I know!" he exclaimed in selfdefense. Granted, he wouldn't have been able to tell them if he'd been hit before or after Jayne'd been shot. He simply could not remember. Suddenly, desperate for a change of subject, he turned to Zoë. "Which way we headed?"

"Back to Persephone, sir." She hesitated a moment, watching the captains dubious expression. "I can turn her 'round, if we need."

Mal shook his head, a bit gingerly. "I god me some questions for a cerdain rodend..." Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Mal winced as he discovered a few lumps that hadn't been there this morning. The pressure of eyes still held him, and he glanced around to see Inara watching from the background. He knew what she was doing; she was weighing the situation, judging to see whether or not she was willing to stay on with this sort of ruckus going on.

Things never went smooth, and for once, just for once, Mal wanted to know why.

_River's food was filled with hatred. It seeped off the morsels of protein with an eerie, red glow, bubbling at times with the greens of jealousy and the purples of fear. River feared mealtimes. Alone, in her cell, she could simply not think. She could shut her brain off and drift inside a void of nothingness. But in the communal cafeteria, she had to reenter that dance. Sometimes, she had to pretend to be happy._

_For the sake of the others._

_At mealtimes, Amber Valese clung to River's side. Chase always lingered nearby, watching, and smiling. He knew that River was ranked highest of them all, and Chase himself was not far behind. His confidence was overwhelming, that they would be the two chosen. Why not Chang Lo Min, who could move things with the power of her thoughts? Why not Sarah Lansky, who was forced to wear a fire-retardant suit lest she set the Academy on fire? Why was he so confident that a boy who could do little more than guess lucky, and sometimes know what people were thinking, would be chosen to continue the program, when he was lined up against the glowing reports of River's progress?_

_River couldn't place the chronological occurrence of this particular memory, and so, she understood on some level that she was dreaming. Dreaming a half-memory? She used to feed Amber all the time, afraid that the littlest of them all would fade away into the nothingness of her thoughts. She knew she used to try to blow the hatred away from the food with kind and loving thoughts before she coaxed the young one to eat._

_But she did not remember Chase approaching her ever during the mealtimes. She did not remember the goatee he sported, or the cut of his clothing. He had always been messy, an absent-minded genius._

"_She's dead, you know." He offered without preamble._

_River's face scrunched up, a hot red fury starting from somewhere deep in her gut._

"_That's right. Hate me for it. You remember. I killed her when you couldn't. I saved your rutting ass. Rode you like I rode that pathetic excuse for a Browncoat." Chase smiled and settled down into the seat across from her. His hands interlaced before him, and his gaze flickered toward Amber once more._

_River followed his glance even under the haze of fury. The girl opened her mouth, and dribbled forth bilious blood, black and stagnant. For the first time, River saw the slashed open jugular, and the spill of dried blood down the front of Amber's shift. Her jaw clenching, River gently pushed the corpse over in her mind, and laid it down upon the bench._

_Amber's lips moved. "You could have saved us all…"_

_River banged her hands down on the table, rising as she did so. "What do you want?" she demanded of him, leaning over until her face was mere inches from his._

_Chase smiled, full of saccharine sweetness. "I want you to suffer, like we did." Then he stretched up, until his lips pecked the tip of River's nose. She sat down hard, shuddering from the touch. "But this isn't about what I want, Riv. This is about what __**they**__ want."_


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

**Shadows and Sunshine**

Intersystem travel and planetary orbits were often tricky things to figure out. That's why ships had navsats, and other such happy systems, to aid a plucky pilot in figuring out times and arrivals and angles of approach. Everything rotated around everything else and Mal always had found that stuff too confusing. It was one of the many reasons that he missed the customary presence of River in the copilot's chair.

She'd have had it explained out in seconds: why a thirty-six hour trip had seemed to magically become an eighteen hour return flight. Somewhere along the trip, he'd managed to sneak some of the doc's attention (so his nose didn't hurt quite so badly), and he'd managed to half-explain to Zoë what had happened on Athens. ("I swear, someone else must have gotten to the stash first. Shot Jayne, kicked my tail, and gotten himself destroyed by our little albatross.")

Of course, only River really knew anything of the truth, and she hadn't woken since Simon doped her. Since getting _Serenity_'s landing clearance, Mal had been thinking about how best to confront Badger. He kept coming up with the same thing, repeatedly. That consisted of bursting in the front door of his seedy little den with all barrels blazing. However, he was unfortunately lacking in the barrels department at the moment.

Jayne was down, possible for weeks if Simon's hinting meant anything at all. And River's return to instability meant that he wouldn't be trusting her around anything explosive or sharp for a good long while. That left himself, Zoë, the good doctor, and li'l Kaylee. Mal was conscious of how he rejected even letting Inara into his thoughts. He didn't want her to see any more violence, ever…

No, he'd make due with who he had. Kaylee was good with getting through doors, and Simon could be useful in a pinch. He'd shown that a few times. Mal sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. Eavesdown was coming up on the horizon. Easing the throttle back gently, Mal began the slow descent into atmo.

Simon pressed the vial gently into Inara's hand, willing her to take it from him. "If River wakes up, and gives you trouble…" He looked like he had swallowed a bumblebee as he said it. "… a teaspoon of this in something hot… like… like tea. It will calm her down…"

Inara nodded, reluctantly closing her fingers around the vial. "I doubt we will be needing this." The Companion offered a placating smile, and glanced into the infirmary. River slept curled up on her side, like a cat; while in the center of the room, Jayne's shallow, slow breaths wheezed gingerly in his drug-induced slumber. "And what of Jayne?"

Simon followed her gaze and sighed. "There's morphine in his I.V. Just… don't let him rip it out…"

Once more, Inara nodded, and stepped back to watch as Simon carefully packed a few more things into his small bag. She still hadn't figured out what Mal was planning, or why it was so important to him that they interrogate the little weasel of a man. Just as Simon picked up his bag, and headed to join the others, Inara reached forward and laid a hand on his arm, bringing him to a pause.

"Take care of them?" She asked, unable to hide her worry with dark eyes.

The doctors brows raised, and for a moment, his jaw worked in surprise. Finally, he found words again, beetling up his features as his own worry was kindled. "Ah… of course, I shall."

Inara released him, and stood back, satisfied once more. After following him down to the cargo bay, and watching them all leave from her customary place on the catwalk, Inara realized that Mal never once glanced in her direction. She hid her frown by turning her back to the cargo bay, and closing her eyes. Hands folded carefully before her, she whispered a prayer for their collective safety.

_Serenity_ seemed so quiet and cold with the absence of other voices. Of all the silly things to think of, Inara remembered the time when River pretended to have possessed the ship, in order to scare off the odd bounty hunter who had come for her. Her trick with the intercoms had been brilliant. Which… it turned out, gave Inara a perfect way to keep an eye on infirmary without having to stay down there.

Smiling proudly to herself, she descended the stairs into the belly of the ship, intent on making her plan truth. She would turn on the intercom in the infirmary, and link it to the receiver in her shuttle. Any sounds the two made she would hear, and be able to respond to them. At least, it was sound in theory.

When she came off the last few steps, and swung to step into the infirmary, she found herself face to nose with a closed door. That was odd. She'd left it open when she accompanied Simon to the cargo bay. She lifted up on her tiptoes to peer into the porthole.

"River?"

The girl was gone from the small side bed. She stood beside Jayne, her hands loose at her sides, simply looking down at him. At the sound of Inara's voice, she looked up sharply, and fixed the Companion with an intense gaze. After a few moments, River's expression softened: a visible transition between her mind sets, from weapon to girl. Approaching the infirmary doors, River untied the interior handles, and slid one half open.

"It's safe. He's not here."

Inara reached in through the gap to gently touch River's cheek. The girl leaned away. "Who's not here?"

"Him. He's not hiding inside anybody. He wouldn't dare." River stepped aside slightly to let Inara in. "Jayne is hungry."

Uncanny. The girl was simply uncanny. With a rustle of silk, Inara positioned herself to keep half an eye on the mercenary, and half on River. "Why don't we go make the two of you something to eat then?" Once more, Inara reached out to touch her. And once more, River slipped away like the wind.

Shaking her head, River returned to the place beside Jayne. "The girl will stay here. Watch over. Keep the nightmares away." If Inara had not seen it herself, she would never have believed the truth. River's tiny hand lifted up and brushed across Jayne's arm.

For the first time, Inara couldn't find any sort of words for the situation. She felt like she was intruding, and so, stepped backwards, out of the infirmary. Puzzling through the odd exchange, Inara headed toward the mess.

* * *

Kaylee was good with doors, especially back doors that had to be gotten into quietly. Zoë and Simon hovered nearby, masking most of Kaylee's work with their bodies, and inane chatter. Mal prowled around some of the nearby open market shops, and was curious to notice the obvious lack of some of Badger's eyes.

Just as Mal was about to get a mite impatient, Kaylee squeaked in triumph, and the rear bulkhead of Badger's nest whirred open. Beaming up at Mal as he approached, Kaylee was quite proud of her accomplishment, given that the door had been alarmed, trapped and a sundry handful of other nasty things.

"All shiny, capt'n!" she chirped, shaking back a bit of her bangs. "Disabled the alarms too. They won't know we're comin' in!"

Mal grinned at her, knowing full well how downright comical he looked with two black eyes and tape over the bridge of his nose. He motioned for Zoë to bring up the rear, and Simon to keep watch over Kaylee. And then he set foot into the badger's den.

Badger's place always smelt vaguely of rotten fruit and unwashed feet. It had been a bothersome smell to Mal's nose, and one of the reasons most of his crew didn't come down here with him for their business deals. Today he was worried that this place smelt a little different. Glancing behind him to see what Zoë was thinking, he found her with the same perplexed expression.

"Guard's missin'." Zoë murmured softly, over Kaylee's shoulder.

Mal felt his stomach drop out from beneath him. Hurrying now, he shouldered his way through boxes and crates of merchandise ready to ship out. The entire rear of the warehouse was filled with junk that someone, somewhere, wanted on time. None of the workers were filling orders. None of the guards were wandering around glaring at folks. Badger prided himself on being some manner of kingpin on Persephone. The guards and workers were part of that demesne.

Kaylee groped blindly for a moment, until she found Simon's hand. Startled, he looked back to her, and then, squeezed her fingers. This was completely alien to the two of them. Mal was beginning to regret his choice to bring them along. The warehouse thinned out, stacks getting smaller and sparser as they moved into the depths of the offices.

The hallway to access Badger's inner office was L-shaped, and Mal paused at the bend, to peer around the corner. His eyes widened, and he pulled back fast, leaning his head against the wall.

"_Go neong yung duh…_"

Why had it taken so long for Inara to leave? Even though the Companion remained in the infirmary for only ten minutes and fifty-two seconds, it had felt like an eternity that River had to battle the golden cascades of her thoughts, and the blue waves of worry. Inara had waited until River had eaten, until River had set the covered bowl of rice and canned vegetables aside for Jayne, until River had sat and stared at her expectantly.

She felt bad driving the Companion away like that, but she wanted unclouded thoughts. The closest she could get to the black was lying in a drugged sleep beside her stool. River stuck her chin in her hand, and stared intently at the bandage on Jayne's chest. She found herself breathing in time with him, listening to the sound of the soft rattle. If she touched him, she could feel his dreams, morphine-riddled, purple-skied dreams.

He would have to wake up soon. She felt the stirrings of his thoughts when there were voices around him. She lay her hand on his nearest forearm once more, and gently began to talk to him.

"Puppet-master will be sorry. Sorry he hurt my dance partner. Sorry he made me hurt Captain Daddy…" His thoughts stirred then, conflicting desires to open his eyes, and keep them shut rising to the front. River swallowed slightly. To end the pain before more were hurt, she needed him.

Her fingers strayed further, ruffling the hairs along his forearm until she brushed the tips across his knuckles. Since the events on Ariel, he hadn't raised a fist at her in anger, despite his threats. His dreams turned as she traced the tiny scars of old teeth marks on his knuckles. She blushed instantly as she caught drift of where his purple-hued dreams were turning, and she drew away suddenly.

Jayne's thoughts were there as soon as she was back in her personal bubble of safety. So simple, so linear. Cause and effect. His thoughts were easy to handle, sift through, and ignore. Unlike Simon's little boxes, or Inara's waterfalls. Unlike Kaylee's circuit boards or Zoë's handwritten notes. Jayne's were simple. Like guns. Like weapons.

He groaned from his toes up, as his eyes first fluttered open. Glazed blue fought for focus, as River leaned over to watch him. The groggy haze was from the morphine, but he felt no pain for the moment. River smiled sweetly as he rolled his head toward her, grateful that he was coming to.

Suddenly, Jayne was chuckling, a low, shallow pained sound. The giant paw, which she had just been examining, flailed out, lacking full motor control, until it came to settle heavily on her knee. He bared his teeth in a goofy grin.

"Jus' keep smilin'… 's like … shiny… sun.."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

**That Had to Hurt**

"Kaylee, you keep watch, good like. Don't want none interuptin' us, _dong ma_?" Mal tried hard to keep his voice steady, and to hide the disgust and nausea that was rising fast in his stomach. Bewildered, Kaylee glanced from Mal toward the bend in the hall, then back into the warehouse.

"O-okay, Cap'n," she wasn't wholly comfortable with this idea. Biting her lower lip, she edged back down the hallway. Zoë closed the gap just as Simon tried to step beyond Mal.

Mal's grip was like iron on his wrist. "You step in that room, you do everything you can to save someone. _Dohn luh mah?_"

Simon's forehead beetled as he hesitated, looking from the captain to the bend in the hallway and back again. "I don't…" he trailed off, uncertain of the dark look in Mal's gaze.

"You will." Mal gave the doctor a shove, pushing him beyond the bend, and nearly into the wall. Simon stumbled and pulled up short, fumbling to recover his bag as he caught sight of just what had paled Mal so badly.

There was no blood. None at all. But somehow the room was still filled with bodies, heaped in a haphazard pile of arms and torsos and legs just behind the overturned table. There had to be at least twenty of them; from what little Simon could make out, they seemed to be nothing more than limp, broken bodies. Arms dangled at angles that could only be achieved by a break, or the complete pulverization of bone matter.

Half-turning to the sound of Mal's approach, Simon's eyes widened to see instead, a wall pockmarked and pitted from small arms fire. He stared in complete confusion at the shape of a man huddled in that farthest corner from the carnage.

Zoë breezed by Simon, giving him a nudge. "Less lookin'; more savin'." She jerked her head toward the obviously living man in the corner.

Simon scurried then, making haste toward the huddled figure. Mal and Zoë moved deeper into the office space, stepping over sprawled arms and legs. The captain couldn't shake the feeling like he'd seen something like this before. Like at the Maidenhead. Particularly how badly this looked like the carnage wreaked by his little albatross… the weapon unleashed.

An unpleasant chill ran up his body.

"Mal?" Simon's voice was strained, but oddly relieved. "I _think_ I found Badger."

"Think?" Zoë mouthed the word as Mal stepped around her. He shrugged in response and left her to sort things out for herself. Mal joined Simon where he knelt before a figure that could hardly be described as a coherent man. Badger huddled back in his corner, teeth bared in a frightful grimace. The petty little crimelord held nothing more than a knife in his hand, which he brandished at Simon.

The doc for his part, knelt nearly a meter from the little man. Mal knew the look in Badger's eyes; he'd witnessed an atrocity, and was hell bent on keeping it from happening to himself. After a few moments, the former lieutenant stepped a little closer to Badger.

The glare was shifted quickly to him. And softly, Mal chuckled.

"Well. Hate to say it, but… there goes yer credibility."

* * *

Jayne was funny. He hid it well, but not when the fuzz spoke for him. The empty bowl rested just beside his left arm. The IV drip pulsed steadily, administering a slow but steady stream of drugs into his system. The drugs kept him buzzed, like a combination of a good beer, and the warm after-sex haze.

He wasn't even sure what he was saying that was keeping the crazy girl giggling so hard. But it was working. He was getting what he wanted. She hadn't stopped smiling. Even through the fuzzy haze, he knew that everything was alright if she was smiling.

And suddenly, she stopped. And Jayne shut himself up. She wasn't watching him anymore. Instead, her gaze tracked to the ceiling and across. Blurry eyes tried to follow her gaze to see just what she was seeing. Up from the stool she went, leaving a sudden coolness under Jayne's hand. Up onto the little pallet to the side, she climbed like a little cat, curling up in the corner.

"RIVER!" Mal was bellowing her name even before he burst into the infirmary. Simon was hot on his heels, frantically trying to stop the captain's mad quest. No one even glanced in Jayne's direction as the rest piled in.

Before Mal could be stopped, he had grabbed River by the arms and yanked her down to the floor.

"Hey!" Jayne barked suddenly, getting at least the girls to look in his direction. His brow wrinkled, as he fought to remember just what he was going to say. Until finally, he managed to mutter: "Yer blockin' mah view."

Kaylee scowled at him, and stepped right back into his view. While Zoë shook her head, it was Inara who stepped back to stand beside the central bed, giving a small window that Jayne could watch through.

Mal was roughly shaking River, hard enough that her hair tousled and flung about. Simon grabbed Mal's arms, but got shoved off with a hard elbow. Kaylee stepped over to catch the doc before he fell completely over.

"Cap'n, what is wrong with you?" Kaylee protested, holding tight to Simon's arms.

"She ain't so bad…" Jayne's voice joined with the mechanics protest. "Lest, when she ain't crazy…"

He was being ignored again. That made him… upset more than anything else. Everything began to blur as he fought to keep his focus. And then everything jumped into crystal clarity with the resounding _smack_ of flesh against flesh.

Jayne twisted, pushing himself up with his right arm to see. River was on the floor; Simon kneeling beside her. Mal lorded, and glowered down at the both of them.

"Thought we had an understandin'. No secrets. So… why don't you conjure us the truth? Or do I have to get angry?"

River's eyes swept up from the floor. For a moment, they caught on Jayne's staring at the scene from behind them all. Jayne felt the fury like a hot poker in his chest. It hurt to draw breath suddenly, and between River looking to be nearly in tears, and the sharp reminder of just why he was lying in the infirmary, Jayne began to growl.

"You shot me!" he griped suddenly into the silence.

Mal's head jerked up, and he spun to face the laid-up merc. River began to tremble on the floor.

"What?" Zoë voiced the question before Mal could. Jayne had eyes for no one but the captain.

"You gorram shot me…" Jayne's voice was weaker this time, and he gave his head a slight shake.

"I did no such thing!" Mal looked suddenly at the accusing stares that were directed at him. Something moved past his leg, and suddenly River was slithering out from the ring the crew had formed around her. Her cheek was red and had to sting from the open-handed slap Mal had laid upon her. But she still stood bravely between the merc and the captain.

"**NOT** Mal." She stated hard, poking a finger at Mal's chest. "No blame. Not Mal."

Things just kept getting more confusing. Simon was torn between River's need for her brother, and the possible need Jayne would have to be knocked out again. River swayed on her feet as Simon fretted between his duties, and she took a step back. Everyone half expected her to fall. Her hands caught against an arm, and she found an odd strength in the straight lines of muscle and sinew.

No one had time to ask her what she had meant. River knew what they all wanted to voice, and she just kept going, shaking her hair back from her face. "He spoke through the Mustalidae. Spoke poison to Captain Daddy. Pieces that are absent; the girl does not remember."

She held a shaky hand up to her face, fingertips touching a single spot between her eyes. Simon tried to move forward, but found himself hedged out by a nearly impenetrable wall formed by Zoë and Mal.

"Who, River?" Simon managed to ask around Zoë's shoulder. "Who are you talking about?"

Jayne was tugging lightly at her hand, brow furrowed as he tried to make sense out of who's appendage was attached to his shoulder. He plucked lightly at her fingertips, as though trying to make them move. Then his hand poked at her forearm, and he seemed to realize just who was touching him. River's eyes widened, and she caught a sharp breath. Confusing boxes, crumpled notes and patternless waterfalls all fell away as a giant paw clamped down over her hand. Her mind filled with straight, unerring lines, a little fuzzy at the edges, but solid.

Suddenly, the weight of the accusation in the room fell on her shoulders, heavy and livid with putrescence. It smelled ugly and gangrenous, and River ducked her head, letting her hair fall forward. She wanted to be shielded from the fear and the worry, and the uncertainty. Lines filled her thoughts, between which words crawled in crooked childish handwriting. _Crazy's losin' it ag'n._ River tried to pull her hand free, but Jayne's grip only tightened.

Simon's hands grabbed her shoulders. And boxes squashed the lines. Three-dimensions taking the place of two, confusion wrapping her thoughts into knots, Simon tried to make her thoughts into boxes too. "River, you have to tell us who."

She began to shake and tremble, tried to shy out of Simon's grasp. Jayne's lines were getting fuzzier, threatening to fade away into black as he too struggled to hold on. River knew his pain, even through the threat of being swept away into her memories once again.

"Chase…" she finally choked out, her voice breaking. Her free hand grabbed onto Simon's wrist, as she begged with tear-filled eyes for him to remember, so that she wouldn't have to.

He narrowed his gaze and searched her eyes. River was there, he concluded; which meant she knew what she was talking about. He paused, and glanced around for a moment, searching his memory while looking at anyone but his little sister. "DeLongpre?" The name came to his lips before he realized he remembered it. She had written about the other students in many of her early letters, before the Academy began to steal his sister away. River's visible deflation, the tension that rolled off her shoulders, told Simon he was right on the money with that one.

"He was… a student, along with River." Simon tried to explain to the questioning faces nearby. "Second in the class, right behind River." Beyond that, Simon couldn't recall much more. He had only had two months of letters before she had started to drift away. He could count the number of times he remembered DeLongpre's name mentioned on one hand.

The silence in the infirmary was thundering as the news sunk slowly into everyone's thoughts. River fidgeted, wriggling her hand out from beneath Jayne's with an industrious fervor. Suddenly, Kaylee made a little sound, and spoke what everyone else was thinking.

"The-- … there're more?" Her voice was shaking as much as River's body was. But the Reader managed to nod her head, mutely, as she stepped sideways, her hand finally freed.

Oddly, the merc practically pouted when the physical contact was broken. But the expression was lost as he struggled to keep his eyes open. They should have been fawning over him; he was the one Mal shot after all. Simon reached out, and took Kaylee's shoulder, as well as River's.

"We should all let Jayne rest," he directed.

Mal agreed, and waited for the others to exit before him. Pausing, he glanced down at Jayne, whose eyes rolled back in his head for a moment. "You heal, hear me? 'Spect we'll be needin' yer gun-hand soon."

Mal barely heard Jayne's answering grunt before the merc was out cold again. Stepping out of the infirmary, he followed the trail of Zoë's herding up to the mess. Everyone settled down. Well, at least everyone tried to. River was instantly beneath the table, huddled in the center, as far from everyone as she could get. Simon and Kaylee were on their knees, trying to coax her out. While Zoë watched with a carefully impassive face, and Inara resolutely set about making tea.

Mal dropped to his knees, and peered under the table at his albatross. Her mouth opened before he could even pose his question.

"Two by two. Always. Neurons and proteins. Hero and sidekick? No. Villain and lackey." She wrung her hands together so hard that Mal reached out suddenly and grabbed them. He did not need, want, nor could handle a self-destructive psychic on his ship at the moment.

"Speak straight, li'l one." Mal caught the glare Simon sent his way, and chose to ignore the breech. "Can't rightly help ya if we can't understand ya."

He got riveted by that stare. That know-all, tell-none stare. Of all the things in the black, he hated that particular look most of all. It had always boded trouble.

"Must see Badger."


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

**A Cunnin' Plan**

She kept the note hidden; oh no, couldn't let the others see. Boxes would open, and pens would scrawl, falls would stutter, and even the circuits would spark. She had to avoid the buzzy worry and slick fear, and the only way she could do that, was to keep the secret.

Captain Daddy wasn't happy. Especially since morning had found them headed once more toward Athens. He let her pilot, mostly, solo that morning, electing instead to hover just outside the cockpit with Zoë captured in conversation. Zoë was afraid to cross into that memory-filled space, and no one pushed her to do so.

They spoke in low tones, perhaps thinking that River couldn't hear them. They spoke in turns, subjects taking alternate routes into conversation, sometimes slipping in sideways, sometimes taking center stage. Mal was repentant over having shot Jayne with no good reason behind it. Zoë, while thinking it was a much needed slap in the merc's face, only nodded and agreed with her captain in soft, short words.

Mal touched on Badger's odd behavior, while Zoë wondered aloud where a whole week of a man's memory could run off too. Both had suspected external forces, but River had never found the words to confirm their fears. To avoid the anger of the sometimes reputable, and often useful little Dyton man, Mal had convinced Badger that_Serenity_ hadn't even left dock for Athens yet.

Mal's ocean waves kept knocking River's hands around, and she struggled to keep her mind on the controls, to put up a levy to break the waters of Mal's thoughts. He was so persistent, so stubborn that he would wear his way through rocks. She kept getting caught in the riptide, and yanked back into their conversation. Especially as she arose as the subject in their exchange.

They kept glancing in her direction. Thoughts swirling, paper getting wet, and water being soaked up. Zoë worried that it was all inside River's head. Mal trusted the albatross with the dark wings. River thought to answer, and to assuage their fears, but she was beaten to the vocalization by a sudden question from Mal.

"Everythin' shiny in there, Albatross?"

River turned partially in the captains chair and unleashed a sunny smile. She hid her shaking hands by holding one still on the arm, with the other resting on the console. There was nothing wrong. Nothing at all. She felt the waves crash over her, and could see the pen scribbling behind Zoë's limpid gaze. Scrutinized so harshly, River's voice pushed forward.

"The hands know what the mind wishes," she assured with a smile.

Zoë glanced at Mal. "I'll take that as a yes."

Mal grinned one of River's favorite, rogueish expressions. And pointed at his first mate. "It's Zoë's turn to make lunch." He beamed, fighting to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "You be comin' down when you got that course all plotted."

River nodded. "Yes, Captain Daddy." Just like a good daughter would, and she turned back toward the console. Slowly, Mal's ocean, and Zoë's notes retreated; River found her own thoughts, and clung to them. She shifted them, sorted through the jagged pieces of stained glass and pieced them together, finding the bits of the plan, and placing them on the mosaic.

Her fingers moved over the console, while the unoccupied part of her brain made the calculations, and pinned trajectories into the navsat. As she worked, she felt the overlay of lines gradually fade into her awareness, laying over the mishmashed work of her mosaic. River turned and looked over her shoulder at the familiar, if a bit slow,_clomp-clomp_ of combat boots heralded his arrival.

Barely twenty-four hours after being shot in the chest, Jayne Cobb was up and walking. River was uncertain if that was a testimony to her brother's talents as a surgeon, or to Jayne's own stubbornness. Perhaps a combination of the two, she watched as he hovered uncertainly.

"Sit." She directed, pointing at the copilots chair. He was white as a sheet, but trying not too look like he was going to drop at a seconds notice. He couldn't hide the relief she felt from him as he lowered himself carefully down. "But do not put those paws on anything." She warned as an afterthought.

"Aww." Jayne whined, turning a blue-eyed scowl at the dinosaur he'd just reached out for. "Can't I just play with one?"

River stretched to flick a button over her head. She nearly had to stand to find it. With the autopilot engaged she could put all her attention on her mosaic. With Jayne's lines to guide her, she could build something wonderful. She smiled again, and wondered if he remembered his sunshine line. He showed no reaction except to reach out and snatch the dinosaur in question, a sleek little raptor type.

She felt a pang across her chest, and saw the barely concealed answering wince that indicated it was Jayne's pain. He placed a hand against his shirt, just over the bandage, covering his wound.

"If you have trouble breathing, you should see Simon." Her voice felt so small coming out of her throat, giving the merc orders.

Jayne grunted. She could feel the waver of his lines, the slight curl they took when he was working up the courage to ask a question. She saved him the effort, and answered the query before it could be voiced.

"It was not Mal. The trigger was pulled by another." As she spoke, Jayne put on his thoughtful look, where his brows knit down hard, and he bit the inside of his lower lip. "Another who will pay. Threats levied against the family unit are not taken lightly."

"Ya mean…?"

"Yes." River nodded, and drew her knees up to her chin. She looked so small and vulnerable like that. "I have a cunning plan." Jayne's chest tightened again as she smiled once more, all fey and mysterious. He rubbed at one of his arms, making sure he still had feeling in all his limbs. She watched his reactions so intensely, until she realized what she was doing. Her eyes averted, freeing him from that bottomless gaze.

"And?"

"Family must not be put in danger."

"Coulda toldja that."

"Must go alone."

Jayne stopped, mouth open. "Oh. _Jien ta duh guay_! I ain't lettin' ya do that!" Raising his voice even hurt. Jayne started to get pissed about this situation. The crazy girl was gonna go off an get herself killed.

"I will be fine. So long as you allow me to borrow a modicum of your weaponry." River suddenly unfolded from her chair. "Do not answer now. Think on it." She stepped forward, distinctly breaking the strange comfortable distance between them. Reaching out, her hands rested upon his shoulders lightly for a moment. Once she withdrew, Jayne realized he'd been holding his breath. "Existence, or termination," whispered as she stepped out of the cockpit.

She left Jayne with his thoughts and headed down to the mess.

She felt him looking for her, feelers of thought stretched out over the ship. She felt him draw near to the passenger dorm she shared with her brother. Not that he ever stayed there any more these days. She had left the door purposefully ajar, and when Jayne hovered outside for a moment, his shadow eclipsed all the light of her world.

He toed the door open fully, and glowered at her from his full six feet plus.

"I don't like this none."

"You are not expected to." She replied, carefully hiding her smile when she caught sight of the duffel bag gripped in his hand. Her head tilted softly to one side, chin lifting slightly upward. "Jayne wishes to accompany the girl."

He had a better _no-shit-dummy_ look than she could ever hope to emulate. "No shit. This is_shiang jing ping_, pixie." But the duffel bag landed on the bed beside her with a soft, muffled clang. He'd wrapped the girls up in cloth. Jayne sat himself down in the small chair by the door, and leaned back.

River was all bundled up in a blanket, and she had both presents that he had given her. An old Ma Cobb knit cap, in a bevy of blues that looked completely too adorable when she shoved it down over her head like she did. And nestled up in her arms was the little white bear, in the frilly pink tutu. He couldn't stop grinning, suddenly.

"Your concern is entirely misplaced, Sapiens." River started hotly, before catching an inkling of what he was thinking. She began to blush, ducking her head so her hair would hide her. She was not a little girl to be dressed in frilly pink! The very idea bristled her, but she forced herself to continue, lest he become suspicious. One hand snaked out, and tugged the zipper of the duffle. Keeping her eyes down, she withdrew the first of the weapons.

"Ya got Melissa, Alexis, Carrie and Jezebel in there. Plus a knife er two." He waved a paw at the bag, and watched in fascination as this fluffy little girl handled his girls with an expert hand. Except she didn't seem so fluffy after she pulled back the bolt on Alexis, and examined the clip critically.

She knew what she was doing. It was the same look she'd had when those blast doors had separated, and he'd laid eyes on her, haloed by the Alliance floodlights. It was hard to handle her looking like that, all grown up and deadly… like she could handle herself in a fight. Jayne began to grow a little more than just uncomfortable as she handled the semi-auto handgun. She moved on from inspecting Alexis to pulling out the semi-compact Jericho. The sweet little 9mm that he had named Melissa fit so neatly in River's hand. She laid Melissa beside Alexis and pulled half the disassembled Carrie out of the duffel before she stopped short.

Jayne shifted uncomfortably, yearning to adjust the tension in his pants. Complications always made him edgy. River arched a brow, focusing for once more on the expression of his features, than on the sudden tangle of thoughts. He was a painfully honest man, even when that honesty was not of the nicest variety. Questions showed plainly on his face, but they stumbled around inside his head like a scribble searching for meaning. And when she started watching him with those dark, knowing eyes. It just got worse.

"Quit… quit lookin' at me like that." He finally muttered, grumping and curling his lip in frustration. "Wish I knew whatcher plannin' t'do with my girls…"

River's lip twisted to mimic his own expression. "If the weapon were cross-eyed, would the girl be more accepted?"

"What kinda moon-brained question is that?" River winced before he could bark meanly, and he found his voice dropped automatically from bark to snarl. He was getting pissed at himself for giving half a damn when the girl seemed scared. Half the time she was this helpless little lump, and the other half she made him feel less than adequate. Not only that, but he was pretty sure she was going off to get herself killed this time.

"Won't die." River stated softly, as she slipped the half-extracted piece of Carrie back into the bag. "Just cutting strings." Melissa and Alexis went back into the duffel, settling in carefully before she tucked it behind her pillows. "Jayne's girls will assure safety, and they will return to him. They demand his hands, over small ones."

Jayne blinked and scowled suddenly. "Gorramn right," he grunted. "And yer payin' me back fer every bit o'ammo ya burn." Even as she nodded in agreement, Jayne took a deep breath, and prepared himself for the momentary stab of pain before he pushed himself back to his feet. "And," he growled pointing at her small form, "I'm takin' any dings on 'em outta yer hide, later."

There. Talking like that, Jayne could almost convince himself that she'd be around to pester him after whatever personal crusade she was going on. He pawed the door open and started to step down into the hall. However, a small hand caught his wrist, and stopped him before he got both feet out.

Half out of the room already, Jayne lurched to a stop. When had she gotten up? Why hadn't he heard her move? She hung onto his wrist with both hands before dropping her grip suddenly, as though he'd burnt her. Without the blankets all bundled up around her, she looked less childish. The oversize sweater over the shorts hung like a shapeless sack, and did nothing to make her look the least bit menacing. When she looked up, Jayne looked away, unable to meet her eyes, unwilling to let her know that he was staring.

"Thank you," she whispered, letting her hands curl loosely at her sides.

The merc glanced back, and squashed the urge to push her hair out of her face. He balled his own hands into fists so tightly at his sides that his knuckles went white. Finally, he found himself grunting in response and getting as quickly away from the passenger dorms as possible.

River remained, trembling, in her place until he had gone from her sight. The tension slowly deflated from her shoulders, as the tangled mess of his thoughts faded into the background noise. She had scrambled his lines, knotted up the thoughts into a confusing jumble. She didn't understand what she had done to break the honest forthrightness. Where had her equation gone wrong?

Simon had brought his sister dinner in the cockpit. Once he had left, and even later, once Mal had retired to his bunk, she uncoiled herself from the seat, and carefully folded the blanket into the pilot's chair. They were barely in Athens' orbit long enough to stabilize before she had to take her window of opportunity. She carried her favorite boots through the ship, using her bare feet as the perfect stealth. Anyone who was awake, was safely tucked away in their bunks, oblivious to the goings on above them.

She moved quickly, gracefully, never once thinking on her actions. She rescued Jayne's duffel bag from her own dorm, and slipped into the spare shuttle without a second thought. While it was running the diagnostic check, she moved back into the shuttle's hold to assemble her borrowed weaponry. Each click and twist brought the weapon closer to the surface, the calm surface of a dormant volcano appearing where molten lava had flowed.

"Hey."

River's hands began to shake. The calm was rocked, and shoved over onto its side by the voice. She looked up like a spooked rabbit from her crouch, taking pains to set Jezebel's stock and barrel down before she dropped them. Jayne lingered in the entrance hatch, waving with uncertainty. Perhaps, he was a bit drunk?

But perhaps not. His lines seemed straight, if a bit subdued. When River didn't react beyond setting the weapons down, he invited himself in. "You jus' gonna leave?"

"Will return."

"Don't reckon ya will."

River rose and stepped toward him. "I will."

His lips quirked, almost smiling. She had referred to herself like a normal person. "How do I believe ya?" He stepped the rest of the way inside, both his hands held behind his back. "How can I believe ya, when ya leave this… in my bunk?"

Pulling his hands from behind him, Jayne revealed the little while bear she had been clinging to. River wished to reach out for it, but instead, she wrapped her arms around her own shoulders. He waited for an answer, the bear hovering between them.

"Safe keeping." She finally tried to explain, her voice sounding tiny and hollow. "Simon would get her dirty. I will return. For her. And for this."

Jayne almost fled as she stepped toward him. But she was digging around in the pocket of her loose skirt. She extracted her fist, closed, and held it out toward him. Numbly, Jayne flattened his palm, and moved to accept the offer.

Her hand was dwarfed by his, but she was deft at hiding the object she shared. Laying her palm flat over his, the flat, cool object pressed between their flesh, she released a slow, shaky breath. Her other hand came up to support his, and to close his fingers into a fist slowly beneath her palm.

"Go." She urged gently, pushing on his arm. "Must slip into the black." The insistent pressure on his arm caused Jayne to turn around. He searched for something to say, but she kept filling the silence. "No. Time's up. Go now. Secret. Remember? Family must stay safe."

"But… but…" He was over the threshold of the entry way before he could finish a sentence. And the door hissed closed behind him. Jayne turned once more, and tried to figure out just what the hell happened. He shifted his grip on the dumb bear, tucking Amanda into the crook of his elbow, while he examined the object River had pressed into his hand.

A single copper piece. Cashy money. She had just paid him to keep a secret. Now what was he gonna do?

"Aww… pixie…"


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

**Midnight in Montgomery**

Job Taylor had always known his chosen career was a dead-end prospect, but it paid the bills, kept his wife and near-grown children clothed and fed. The mountainous rock of Sparta had become a second home to him, since his transfer six years ago to a cushy security position inside Blue Sun. Montgomery was the third largest of the major cities, built up around an iron vein. Of course, the vein itself dried up some two years back, leaving half the city a veritable ghost town of miner's shacks. The other half, though, sported enough trade and vacationers to make it amenable to even some of the Core-bred types.

Been nearly twenty years working for Blue Sun, and Job had never once questioned his place in the world. Until that broadwave from weeks ago, that was. After that, he had enough questions to overload an Alliance Cruiser and bear it out of orbit. Thousands of them, whirling around inside his head like a tornado waiting to break free. He refrained from talking about it at the water cooler; he forced himself to go about his duties like nothing was on his mind.

Never once did the question raise as to just what he'd spent nearly four years guarding.

Even when the inquisition came down from on high, even when the rumors of something of utmost classification getting stolen right out from under their noses, even when the entire laboratory personnel had been removed and replaced with new faces, Job never questioned.

When the long midnight chimed over the intercom, Job hardly noticed. He was too busy conducting the Matsui Symphony Orchestra in a rousing rendition of the _Twenty-Eight-Hundred_. It was his favorite musical retelling of the length of time that Athens had been under siege during the war. The strings represented the Alliance, while the rough brass were the Browncoats. And it was getting to his favorite part where the tympani exploded into bombs.

Just as Job threw his arms into the air, and spun around in his chair, the senior security man noticed curiously that Yoshi wasn't moving. Grumbling to himself in Chinese, he paused the music, and leaned forward to flick the com on the console.

"Yosh?" He asked in to the mic. "Something got your attention? Why aren't you finished your perimeter sweep yet?" Job studied the camera screen for sometime, and slowly began to tilt his head. "Yoshi, you sleepin', man?"

Dead air.

Job thumbed the frequency switch, and tapped the monitor beside him. Yoshi's display shrank, and a four by six grid of the other on-duty guards pulled up in its place. Job scanned through until he found the nearest man to Yoshi's last transmitted location. Taping that icon, the helmet-cam's view expanded to fill the screen. Something black dribbled across the screen.

"_Mi tian gohn_, Xiu, are you drinking on the job again?" he muttered into the muted microphone. He zoomed back out to the multiple feeds, and chose another one. This time, his timing was impeccable. "Dani? You got a read on Yoshi and Xiu?"

"[No, sir. They been outta sight for a coon's age." She could tell her captain winced at that, and when the guard began to turn around. Well, it all happened so fast.

Job wasn't sure if he saw muzzle-flash, or the glint of one of the larger moons off the barrel of the rifle. But he knew that sick, stomach-twisting vertigo of following the camera to the ground, and the cold stillness that overtook the picture. His fingers edged closer to the alarm, but his eyes stayed glued to the picture.

Down from that stunted tree lowered a figure, it hardly seemed to require effort for it to slip to the ground. Across the dried, crinkling excuse for grass, the figured moved, entrancing in its fluid motion. For a moment, the figure vanished, until a great black thing took up the small screen. The figure was a girl, wisp-slender, and dark-eyed. She held the helm-cam gingerly in her hands, and stared into the lens.

"[Remember." Her lips moved, and the whisper carried barely across the microphone. "[I remember you."

Job pushed himself away from the console, stumbling backward until he fell into his chair. He remembered her too. She was the one who had killed her counselor with the pen. She was the head case that had taken three whole days to find when she went hiding in that aftermath. She had been one of those unfortunate souls that Blue Sun experimented on… in this very facility.

And she couldn't be any older than his youngest daughter…

Sparks flew together. Sparks flew apart. Like a giant flower opening in the springtime and releasing its fragrance into the air. Violence called to violence, and her blood boiled in her veins. She was ashamed to admit it to herself, but she lived when she danced. She had no room for remorse; that would come later. These were not mindless, crazed people; they had families, loves, hopes and dreams.

In some small corner of her thoughts, the girl shrank away from the weapon, and wept. With Melissa on one hip, and Alexis on the other, she had taken to the trees, and used the terrain to her advantage. The distance granted by Jezebel's range was impersonal, and efficient. It was a beautiful old rifle, who spoke to her of its history, and the best ways to fire her. Even as she lay on the rocks, peering through the rifle's scope, River trusted the weapon to do what it was meant to.

The figure in a window of the small, unassuming building, came into the cross-hairs. Her finger caressed the trigger gently, softly. The weapon bucked against her shoulder. The SKS had a kick like a mule; she would sport a bruise. Flesh was only flesh, and it parted like hot butter in the wake of the bullet.

"_They each got their own personality._" Jayne's voice surfaced through the darkness of her mind. "_S'why I name 'em. Take Jezzy. She'd just as soon kick ya, as fire fer ya most days._"

River began to move, switch position, alter her location. It was nearly time to breach the perimeter. Soon Athens would rise, and planetshine would eclipse moonshine, she would be compromised in the near-day brilliance. The captain of the guard would figure out what he wanted to do soon enough. If he should call for backup, she was humped. But perhaps, he would lay down arms, convince the others to, so that she could proceed to Chase unfettered.

Unless Chase knew she was there already. Impossible. Chase had never been deemed a Reader, his treatments had been separate after the first four months. They had groomed the two to be paired, both with genius minds, but one with explosive physical prowess, and the flip of the yang to possess unparalleled skills of manipulation. River's body shuddered even as her mind retreated from its own thoughts.

Back door. Best entry point. Leave the captain to sort out his mess. The ident card she had lifted from a body would only get her so far. Her brother had spent a fortune to break into the facility; to invent a way to get past the retinal scans. Whisper-quick and twice as soft, she ran the card. Once, twice… a third time. Until the light turned green, and the door unlocked for her.

Inside.

Antiseptic and clean, the scent of scrubbed hands, and rubber gloves, her memories assaulted her. The girl crashed into the weapon, and the two could not find a way to intermesh. A scream hid in her throat, to terrified of its own existence to make itself heard. She struggled to separate herself again.

Analyze.

The mind falls back onto familiar paths, proper parameters. Jezebel's weaknesses were many in these corridor situations. She traded the SKS in her hands, for the T89 slung over her shoulder. Jezebel nestled against her spine, as though she knew her time for action was over. The sleepy Carrie was wakened by tiny hands pushing in all the right places. The weapon must conserve ammunition, for who knew how many bodies would pile up.

River did.

Twenty-four men. Eighteen women. Only fifteen total would have any chance of remembering who she was. Only two mattered. Only one of those two would she be forced to deal with.

All nine of his exterior guards were down. She'd slain them all. Job's face was white with terror, his hands, idle but trembling, pressed down upon the communications console. One switch, one button, and he could alert the rest of his crew that the facility was compromised. Why did he keep stopping short of issuing that alarm? Why did he watch in fascination as guards kept toppling, until he was certain the assassin was inside?

She was the answer to all his questions. She'd just been a sweet kid, lost in the crazy system that dumped her on this god-forsaken rock, when he'd escorted her to where she was supposed to be. She'd been a crazy kid when he found her trying to escape out the air ducts when her counselor had his accident. She'd bitten and clawed and ranted and raved, and he never once had thought to ask what had brought about the change. She was the answer to all his questions, and that answer was guilt.

Job Taylor was guilty. And the Lord had saw it fit to punish him with the form of this vengeful little angel of war. Job crossed himself. He unholstered his firearm, and slipped the key card from his neck. Both he laid down upon the console, and then he sat back. Leaning his head against the top cushion of his chair, Job closed his eyes, and tried to remember the last time when he told his wife he loved her.

The weapon was systematic. Room to room. Like little boxes. Open each one, get a surprise. Sometimes doctors, scientists; no faces that she recognized, however. But they all received the same. None would ever suffer at their hands like she did. She was the wrench, they were the cogs, and this was the machine she was jamming up. She wasn't aware of it, but she talked the entire time.

"No more needles. No more cuts. Stitches or drugs… no more tests… no more parades… no parties, no wine." It was always _no_, a constant, stream of conscious choice that flowed from her mouth. River's mouth. The mouth of the weapon. Carrie spewed molten lava; the automatic_rat-a-tatta-tat_ sliced through rooms and cut down doors. Fast, slow, fast, fast, slow. Time wound up and wound down. Doors hissed open, and she slowly smiled at the captain of the guard, sitting so timidly in his chair.

Only too late did River realize the weapon was not her…

He had snuck in. He had pirated her signal. He pushed her into the red rage, and tweaked her thoughts with his poison tongue. Chase was there, riding beside the weapon, shotgun in her own head. River's mouth opened to address the captain; the weapon raised the sleek black assault rifle to her hip. Dark eyes rolled around; and the weapon lowered the gun once more.

"Run." The word was barely a whisper, harsh and jagged as broken glass. Her mosaic shattered. He knew she was there. He'd known from the moment she stepped out of the shuttle. When had he become a Reader? _When you were stolen_. When had he slipped in? _Between the fear, and uncertainty._

However would she get him out?

She struggled with herself, fighting to keep her hands still as the captain of the guard numbly rose from his seat. Muscles along her arms twitched, tendons yearned to pull the trigger, to spray the room and redecorate with blood. River clenched her jaw. Her foot inched forward. Her left hand gripped the rifle's hot barrel, until her flesh sizzled and skin blistered.

She felt Chase recoil from the pain. She gathered up that pain and swirled it towards his shadow in her thoughts, spinning it like knives, and twisting it until he fled. She released the barrel as soon as she felt herself freed from him. Tears crept into her eyes as she tried to flex her hand, useless.

"Someday," she whispered to the empty room. "You will accept that I have simply always been better than you."

She was the weapon again, but the red haze, the sparks, had all fled. She was cold inside, calm in ways that she had never felt. Slinging the rifle under her arm, River stepped around the console, and looked critically at the controls. Her fingers brushed against the key card, before she slipped it gently into her pocket.

It took a few moments, but she finally found the switch. With a single flick, she would drop the whole system down to auxiliary power, to run on minimal lights, with complete blast-door lock-down. Her finger slipped under it, and she glanced up, to find a small, blinking red light at the highest corner of the room.

"You cannot fight, what you cannot see, Chase." River spoke boldly, only to smile as she lifted her finger, and plunged the world into darkness.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Spirals

When River left, Jayne returned to his bunk once again. He knew sleeping would be useless at this point, but he couldn't bring himself to do much of anything else. At first, he'd just lain on his slat, and stared at the gently curved ceiling. He rapidly got bored just staring at the metal grating, and pushed himself back up. Sitting there on the edge of his slat, he extracted the single coin from his pocket, and held it up to the light. Mocking him, like a ghost lingering at the edge of his sight, was the teddy bear, flopped over onto its side on the shelf where he'd tossed it.

He grumbled something short to himself in Chinese, either muttering about a monkey's testicles, or a hairless goat. Didn't matter which, to him, because they both fit his state of mind. He tried to ignore the fact that the bear seemed to be looking at him forlornly, and he hunkered down with his elbows on his knees. Hanging his head, he began to turn the coin over in his hands.

How long had he been sitting there? Mentally berating himself for letting her go off alone? How many times had he realized that he was more concerned about the crazy girl getting back unscathed, than he was about any of his guns? Too long. Too many. Way too gorramn complicated.

From his bunk, he could hear the helm alarm begin. They were approaching the planet, dangerously close to atmo. Jayne didn't even lift his head at the sound of Mal's mad dash for the cockpit, only sighing as the feet pounded past his bunk's ladder. Guilt was making it hard to breathe; his chest felt like it was catching fire with every thump of his heart.

That very same guilt made him physically flinch as Mal's voice rang out, shouting for River. _Serenity_ gave a shudder as he took her off autopilot. All of Mal's shouting was waking everyone up. Jayne counted the different patterns of footsteps as each one of the crew roused and came to see what was the matter. Kaylee's little feet ran to the cockpit, then ran away again even faster. Rising, Jayne wavered on his feet as _Serenity_ found her orbital niche.

He knocked a gun flyer to the floor as he reached up, unconsciously setting Amanda upright on the shelf. Turning the coin over a few more times in his hands, he pocketed it, overly aware of its tiny weight against his thigh. The bear seemed to watch him as he took to his ladder, and popped his hatch, moving with a deliberate slowness.

He shouldn't have let the gorramn girl take off on her own. She could be dead by now, or worse, back in Alliance hands. He scowled, as he sidled carefully over beside Zoë, peering curiously into the cockpit.

"Where in gorramn hell is your sister, doc?" Mal was shouting without taking his eyes off the planet spinning ahead of them. He was impressively red-faced at Simon's complete and total bewilderment. While Simon searched for some measure of an answer, Jayne gave Zoë a curious look.

The stone-faced woman merely shrugged to answer, turning slightly to lean against the wall while the bickering ensued from the inside. "River left her post," she finally offered in clarification.

Jayne was saved from making a verbal blunder when Kaylee brushed past, running and out of breath. She'd apparently just made the sweep of all of River's favorite hiding places. "She… she ain't in … the usual spots, capt'n! 

Jayne figured that Mal was getting ready to explode. The merc nervously rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the best way to put things without giving anything away. Mal had snapped, ordering Kaylee to check some unusual spots instead. Jayne wondered just what it had been that Badger said to set Mal on such an uneven keel. Unable to stand still any longer, Jayne moved past Zoë until he stood with the others in the cockpit. He could feel the guilt rolling off him like sweat. Mal was going to know the truth, Jayne feared. As soon as he opened his mouth, Mal would be able to see the truth.

Kaylee stepped back, and bumped into Jayne. He grunted slightly, rocked out of his fearful train of thought by the lance of pain inside his chest. When she bounced forward with a yelp, he found himself holding a hand against his bandage.

"You look pale." It was Simon, somehow managing to put his doctor-voice on despite the chaos surrounding him. "You really should be resting, Jayne."

"Too much noise," Jayne grunted back, settling one hand for support on the back of the co-pilot's chair. His eyes happened to catch the configuration of the dinosaurs on this half of the console, where one of the small raptors stood almost completely beneath the tyrannosaur figure. He wanted to knock them down. "Anyone… check th'other shuttle? Or with 'Nara?"

Mal shot Jayne a nasty glare, for having such a logical assumption. River had often hidden in Inara's old shuttle after the Companion had left. He opened his mouth to answer, but faltered, as he was trying to think of what could have driven her to hide so well this time. Pivoting in the pilots chair, Mal had a mind to tell Kaylee to check both shuttles, when a single blinking light caught his attention.

"_Ri shao gou shi bing!_" Mal didn't stop there. He swore until he saw red. Somewhere in the midst of the tirade, Jayne tried to sneak back out of the cockpit, but Zoë had moved up, until she was blocking his exit. "Zoë! Zoë, git in here! I need trajectory on that shuttle! I wanna know where she's goin!"

Zoë stared at Jayne as he hovered uncertainly in front of her. _She knows_, was all he could think, faced with that stone-cold stare. Abruptly, he side-stepped, and let her in. As she passed the threshold, ice took the place of stone. She sunk into the co-pilots seat and began to flip switches, and tap screens, never sparing a look at the dinosaurs. Jayne felt numb, and his eyes darted around toward the doctor, and the mechanic. He could see the sick reality of the situation sinking into Simon's face.

"Does… he mean she's left?" the elder Tam asked, meekly.

Kaylee took his hands in hers, and nodded, mute. When she looked up, her eyes connected for a moment with Jayne's, a disapproving line drawn between her brows. _Her too!_ Jayne's mind rebelled against the idea. They all knew that he'd let her leave without a fuss. He took a step back, and felt his equilibrium shift a little too late. His foot struck empty air, missing the first downward step from the cockpit.

Jayne hit the deck grating with a resounding crash, the breath knocked right out of him, his bell rung good and loud. Seconds later, Simon was hovering over him, only getting grunted at and shoved away by the big man, as he struggled to get up. Suddenly, he growled something that made Simon back right off.

Kaylee came down and laid a hand on her doctor-boy's shoulder, watching as Jayne lurched to his feet and walked unsteadily down the hall, with one hand rubbing the back of his head. Simon looked up at her, confused, and bewildered as ever.

"Wha'd he say?" she asked, once she'd helped Simon back to his feet.

"I'm not sure." When she tilted her head at him, Simon shrugged, and took his best guess. "I think he said… _I promised_."

In less than two hours, Zoë and Mal had tracked down the stray shuttle. Twenty minutes after that, Serenity was resting on a small flat outcropping that barely held the full width of the ship. Five minutes after that, everyone was gathered in the cargo bay. Even Jayne, who came down the catwalk with as much of his arsenal as he could carry. Simon nearly dropped his medical bag in his haste to stop the merc from boarding the mule.

"Wait, wait!" Simon put himself quickly between the two, and gestured frantically. "Mal, tell him he can't go! He's wounded." Jayne glowered and calmed reached around Simon, setting Vera down in one of the seats.

Mal was thankfully released from having Inara's undivided attention when Simon's voice cracked frantically. He came around the mule and lay a hand on the big man's arm. "Just what do ya think yer doin'?"

"M'job." Jayne grunted without looking up.

"Uh-uh. Not this time. Doc says you gotta lay up, rest a while."

"Can't." Jayne grunted, finally leveling Mal with his best don't-argue look. Mal met it steadily with his much better give-me-an-answer glare. Jayne's shoulders sagged after a moment. "Made a promise."

That truly surprised Mal, not to mention taking everyone else by surprise. Glances were exchanged, as everyone wondered who he promised what to. Simon put the pieces together first, coming to the unsettling realization. "Just what did my sister put you up to?"

Jayne felt his skin go white, as the knot of panic and the threat of getting spaced loomed wordlessly over him. "Didn't put me up to nuthin'. Sweet talked me inta lettin' her clean a few o' my girls." He prayed they'd bite onto that, as he was pretty confident everyone involved knew his girls meant everything to him. Simon continued to watch him, more astute than he should have been. Meanwhile, Mal just shook his head.

"Girl's diggin' herself a mighty big hole." Mal muttered. "First stealin' a shuttle, then Jayne's guns. What's eatin' at our psychic so bad she gotta run off alone?"

Jayne waited for Simon to get himself into the mule before he followed, more slow than he'd ever moved before. "Maybe the same thing was e'ting at you 'nough to make ya shoot me." The words were out before he even meant to say them. Mal spun to take offense to that, but Simon spoke before he could get the venom out.

"I think he may be onto something."

Even Jayne blinked twice. "I may?"

"Chase was a student at the Academy with her. She must know where he is. She's trying to protect us again," Simon mused, his voice falling softer and softer. Finally, he looked down from the mule to Kaylee, as she reached out and took his hand. "She's protecting us from someone who can use us like puppets."

Mal grumbled and hopped up to join Zoë in the front seat. Inara and Kaylee would stay behind at _Serenity_, keeping her engines warm and listening in on the comms. He gave Zoë's shoulder a tap, and she responded by putting the mule in gear, and easing her out of the cargo hold.

A few minutes out, Jayne leaned forward, and shouted into Mal's ear. "So what's the plan?"

Mal turned as Jayne bent his ear. "Yer stayin' at the shuttle incase she heads back there afore we find her." Jayne began to protest, but Mal reached up and grabbed the man by his hair. "If she's still in a corpsifyin' mood, you gotta shoot her."

Jayne sat back hard and fast as Zoë banked the mule around a tree. He wanted to peel his goggles off and rub his eyes, but couldn't. Shoot River? He couldn't shoot River! He mentally flailed about that, before reaching out and grabbing Simon bodily. Yanking the doctor closer, he shouted: "Teach me them goramn safe words!"

Simon blinked and stared from behind his own ill-fitting goggles. Shaking his head, the doctor tried to dislodge Jayne's meaty hand from his arm. Simon grew more desperate as Jayne refused to let go. He was about to petition for help, when Zoë pulled the mule up short. On the edge of the tree line sat _Serenity_'s missing shuttle. The side hatch was disconcertingly wide-open.

Mal jumped out first, leveling a meaningful look at Jayne. Reluctantly, the merc released his grip and eased himself down out of the mule. "Admit it," Mal grumbled as Jayne pulled up beside him. "Y'ain't movin' none too fast. That brain obviously ain't started workin' better to make up fer it. Stay here, keep an eye out for her."

Jayne put his hand out expectantly, and Mal pressed a walkie-talkie into it. Jayne took a heavy breath, and led the way into the shuttle before he could make a fool out of himself. Together, Mal and Jayne checked to be sure River wasn't already aboard, but when the shuttle was declared clear as can be, Jayne sank down onto one of the seats. He leveled a glare at Mal, and hoped it told the Captain what he wanted to.

Mal left the hatch open when he returned to the mule. Settling in again beside Zoë, he sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "This is gettin' a mite more complicated than I like."

"How so?" Zoë's question was echoed instantly by Simon.

"Ain't never seen Jayne so worked up 'bout any o' his girls 'ceptin' Vera." Mal sighed. "Don't matter none, 'spect it's the drugs talkin'… mostly… I hope." Zoë shot him a glance, to which Mal only shrugged. "Since I've benched our tracker… lets canvas the woods… see what we can find."

River was aware of three things as she slowly opened her eyes. First, the floor was cold, oddly comforting but not wholly supportive of her prone position. Second, her hands were bound, uncomfortably behind her back, twisting her shoulders into an odd configuration that only reminded her she had wrenched one of them when she underestimated one of the guards. And third, the interior of her mouth felt like it had been scrubbed with a wire-brush and doused in turpentine; the thick feeling of her tongue didn't help the situation as she struggled to recall her last few moments of awareness.

After she had stripped the power and locked down nearly ninety-percent of the facilities basic operations, she had floated unrestricted through the corridors until she felt him. He was paint splattered helter-skelter on the walls, frantic and uncontrolled. She had kicked the door in, but… what had happened then?

The inability to remember her last moments unsettled the weapon and began to let River sneak back through. She was afraid; she realized after a few moments. For the first time, she wondered if this could have been an elaborate ruse meant to draw her back into the hands of the Alliance. River twisted in her bonds, managing to roll onto her side and take a look around.

With a pang, she recognized the chamber, and fought against the tide of memories. It was the same, small dormitory she had spent nearly two years of her nights confined in. The metal walls still bore the scratches and blood-stains from her many, repeated attempts to escape. River whimpered, expecting them to come through the door any moment, to finish the one who had gotten away.

"[Do you remember, Riv, the night we learned that the air ducts would carry our voices?" Her eyes searched for the source of the transmission, and she finally found it: a small comm sat upon what had once been her pallet. It's red light winked at her, enticing her to answer.

"I remember," she finally got out around her swollen, dry tongue. She coughed then, hard enough that it felt like her lungs were trying to turn inside out.

"[Sorry about that. The knockout gas still has some nasty respiratory side-effects." He sounded jovial. "[That wasn't nice, cutting my power like that. You killed my Cortex feed, just when I was going to have your bright, shiny family land-locked."

River started, fighting her way up until she was sitting, glaring at the box defiantly. Getting her knees beneath her, she started to writhe and twist, working the bonds down around her butt.

"[Ooh, giving me a show? You know I do so love it when you get all bendy and violent! C'mon, Riv, don't disappoint me."

River froze, unwilling to give him what he was looking for. "Don't call me that," her voice broke, cracking from want of water. "_Chui se!_"

Chase's voice gasped, causing the commlink to crackle slightly. "[Such language. Must be those rutting Rimfolk you hang on to, spoiling your mind with such vulgarities." He tutted softly. "[Guess I'll just have to show them a what for, all personal like. Care to watch? I knew you would. Let's see, all I need to do is route the auxiliary power through the security feeds, and… _jing chai_!"

A flicker of light caught River's attention, and she twisted forward, getting to her feet finally. She would plan her escape later. But first, she had to see what Chase was blithering on about. The small Cortex screen set into the wall flickered uneasily, but River's heart stopped when she recognized the three figures moving among the carnage of the front halls.

Simon knelt beside one body, checking for a sign of life, while to either side of him, Zoë and Mal swung guns around warily.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Showdown

Simon knelt beside the body, gently turning it with a hand placed on the shoulder. This one was just like the others, a single clean shot from an upper angle. Simon had seen his fair share of gunshot wounds, but these ones affected him on a deep level. He knew why, and he was avoiding the subject by trying to be medically clinical about the whole situation. His little sister could have gone off the deep end, but he kept trying to tell himself that it had been someone else who lay in wait, to snipe these poor souls.

Inside, well, Simon couldn't tell if it was better or worse. The bodies were further spaced out, some suffering broken necks, while others were punctured with one or two bullet holes. Entire rooms at the front of the compound were rendered devoid of human life by the destructive force of nature in the form of River Tam. Even Mal was beginning to look a little green around the gills.

The radio squelched at his side, and Mal jumped a mile. Simon's edginess was rubbing off. "[Mal, Mal?" Jayne's voice keyed up over the comm. "[Found anythin' yet?"

Mal flashed an irritated look at Zoë, who could only shrug. "For a man who does a lotta hatin', he's sure mighty worried." He fished the comm off his belt, and pressed the relay button. "Hold yer horses, Jayne. We'll tell ya when we find somethin'." Before the merc could answer, Mal had tucked the comm back into his belt, and thumbed down the volume.

Zoë had what could have been called a thankful look in her eyes, as the auxiliary lights flickered and tried to come up to full power. They flickered, fan whining in air vents, for a full forty-five seconds before dying down once more.

"This is surreal," Simon suddenly murmured. He was staring down a side-hallway, shaking his head slowly. "All the rooms are under lockdown, but we've still seen the bodies of doctors and researchers among the guards."

Mal suddenly banged on a panel in the wall. Lights flickered up once more, briefly illuminating the Chinese characters, and English subscript. "Control room's straight ahead. Maybe we can get power back? See if she's still on sight?"

Simon rubbed his forehead as he began to follow Mal. The faint, demanding voice of Jayne drifted up from the Captain's belt until he grabbed the comm and keyed it live. "Jayne, _bi jweh_. We happen t'be lookin' fer a crazy li'l killer girl, 'n you happen t'be givin' our very position away with yer yellin'. So.. unless you wanna be the reason we all get dead.. just clam yer mouth up, and we'll call you."

There was that pleased look again in Zoë's eye, as Mal handed her the comm. She hooked it onto her belt, and tugged the hem of her vest down to cover it. Simon just blinked, and tagged along. It was beginning to verge on too much for him to handle. As they reached the closed door of the proclaimed Control Room, Zoë gave him a nudge, pushing his back against one of the corridor walls.

She lifted and readied her Mare's Leg, giving a solemn nod at Mal, across the way. Mal checked his pistol, and held up his closed fist. After a few seconds, he nodded, and held up one finger. Then extended a second, with a bob of his fist. Simon recognized it as a countdown until the door opened, and he adjusted his grip on his bag. However, before Mal could get up to three, the hydraulics whined, and the door powered open on its own.

Zoë reacted first, stepping into the open door with her weapon brandished. Mal followed suit a moment later, sweeping left with his pistol. Unfortunately, it was Simon who noticed the chair move first. The high-backed thing swiveled around in the moments before Zoë and Mal turned their attention toward the center of the room once more.

The young man simply sat and watched them all. His fingers were laced and tucked behind his head, a bored expression glittered in pale eyes. He was as neat and trim as Simon had been the first time anyone had met him. His shirt bore a Mandarin collar, plus the logo of Blue Sun itself embroidered on the left breast.

"Looking for something?" the young man broke the silence with a smile. Perfect white teeth flashed beneath the neatly-trimmed goatee. "Or maybe, someone?"

Mal and Zoë exchanged glances. "Yeah," Mal answered after a moment. "Li'l thing, 'bout yay-tall. Missin' a few bats in her belfry."

Simon was horrified. He wanted to take a step forward, but found he couldn't get his feet to listen to him. From the looks on Mal and Zoë's faces, they were facing much the same predicament.

"Basic motor functions disobeying you?" The young man began to rise from his seat, revealing, much to Simon's relief, normal, flesh-colored hands. He moved around the console slowly, his gaze never resting on anyone for more than a few seconds. He affected a limp as he moved by Zoë. "Really, Mrs. Washburn. You should have the good doctor look at that knee, before it gets any worse." There was that smile again, disarmingly charming, and wholesome. Zoë's eyes narrowed.

The young man just looked levelly up at Mal, before sighing softly and stepping between them. "For all the glowing descriptions Riv ever gave you, I really expected you to be… taller." There was a moment, where the two men simply stared at each other. Simon figured that he couldn't be much older than River. Perhaps, a year or two, but there was such a weight behind his eyes.

"You're Chase." Simon found his tongue loosened. The young man nodded, soberly; extending a hand to lay upon Simon's shoulder, he heaved a long sigh.

"And you. You could have saved four of us. But you didn't." Chase's eyes were like chips of flint, a hard bit of blue surrounded by pale skin. "You saved one. You selfish, narrow-minded little bastard. Just one. You left three of us to rot in that disinfected hell. So now, you get a choice."

Simon blinked. He wanted desperately to look away from Chase's dominating gaze. He wanted to know what Mal and Zoë were doing, if they were concocting some sort of elaborate plan to get them out of this. Chase reached out and patted Simon's cheek, and it was as though the action released the muscular stasis. Simon flinched and backed away, getting his first good look at Mal and Zoë.

"Like I said, a choice. You can save one of them. Your sister. The good Captain. The stoic widow, or the mercenary." Chase moved off to one side, grinning.

Simon paled. He had no doubt that his choice wouldn't involve Jayne, but to choose between his unfathomable sister, and the tableau before him… Simon was stricken. "Answer me one thing first." Simon moved forward, and tried, with gentle pressure, to remove the barrel of Zoë's Mare's Leg from it's place pressed against Mal's stomach. When she wouldn't budge, he pushed against Mal's gun-hand, but only diverted the barrel of his pistol long enough to see the circular dent it was causing against Zoë's forehead.

"Certainly." Chase had returned to his seat, kicking up his feet while he peered with interest at the various monitors before him.

"Where's my sister?" Simon looked up to find both Mal and Zoë frantically making eyes at Simon. They jostled this way and that, as though trying to get his attention.

"Why, she's safe. For now. Of course, she won't be quite so safe in about an hour when the transport shuttle arrives."

"Where will you take her?" Simon finally figured out what they were trying to show him. In the background, behind the chair, a shadow slithered carefully down the length of the wall. He tried very hard not to notice it. "Back to Ariel? Back to the Academy?"

Chase laughed, long and low. "I like how you stall. Thinking you'll have some sort of savior descending upon this place. I miss hope. It was such a wonderful sentiment, until you destroyed it."

The shadow kept creeping, until it resolved itself into the slight figure of the younger Tam. Simon searched for something to say, to hold onto Chase's attention for just a few moments longer. But something gave her away, perhaps the way Simon's eyes widened to see his sister's blood-splattered garb. Or even worse, his gut-check reaction when he realized her left hand curled uselessly at her side.

Whatever it was, something set Chase off.

As she grabbed the back of the chair to spin it around, Chase rocked forward, giving the chair a backward shove with the back of his knees. If River had not twisted aside at the last second, the chair would have bowled her over with its velocity. The distraction was enough that Mal and Zoë were suddenly freed, each yanking their weapon away from the other and turning them both on Chase.

The _cah-chink_ of bolts being drawn back echoed loud in the room, but neither of the two combatants stopped for a moment. Neither of them had stopped moving even as the chair crashed to the floor. River stepped inside and under a wide swing, and drove her right fist hard into Chase's side.

Mal cursed soundly. "Movin' too fast, no clear shots."

Chase cracked his elbow into the side of River's head, a blow that drove her to one knee. The young man seized the opportunity, and wrapped one hand up in River's hair. Pivoting on one foot, he glared intently at Zoë. Before she could stop herself, Zoë found the butt of the Mare's Leg jamming up underneath Mal's lowest ribs. Her free hand reached around, grabbing the pistol. Simon swore under his breath, and tried to skirt around the edge of the room.

River was clawing at Chase's hand, twisting and writhing in his grip. Simon feared that she would simply rip out a chunk of her hair if she kept going. Mal wrestled with Zoë, doing everything he could to keep her from shooting him. After a few minutes, he muttered something, and head-butted her, not once, not twice, but three full times before she dropped.

River, it seemed, had a purpose for all her twisting about. She had been kneeling, bent forward, and now, she'd gotten herself sitting on her butt, almost bent in two. But Chase's kneecap fell victim to the sole of her boot, cracking and buckling under the impacted kick. He went down hard, landing mostly atop the little spitfire. The action dragged them both out of Simon's sight for a moment.

Mal was struggling to get Zoë over his shoulder, motioning frantically for Simon to come over. Simon gave Mal the assist, getting Zoë in a somewhat comfortable fireman's carry. Mal followed the doctor's gaze back toward the console, just in time to see Chase mule-kicked across the room.

"River!" Simon called out as his sister fluidly snaked to her feet. She glanced at the two of them.

"Go!" She didn't even get to point, before Chase had regained his own feet and closed the distance again. She caught the first thrown punch against a block of crossed arms. The second was diverted with a slight twist of her forearm, but she was slowly backing up.

"Simon!" That was Mal. "I'll be needin' you to take care of Zoë!"

Simon hesitated again. He glanced back to River, who had just nearly flattened Chase with a roundhouse kick. She didn't glance back, too intent on keeping the other Reader occupied. Reluctantly Simon retreated after Mal, silently promising his sister that they'd be back in just a moment.

* * *

The worst part about waiting was that Jayne could hear everything. Every last gorramn word, every threat, and every question. But no one would answer him. Knowing Mal, he'd turned the volume down; knowing Zoë, Jayne was being ignored. Knowing Simon, the doctor wouldn't have cared less. But Jayne, being Jayne, couldn't sit idly by and let them have all the fun.

Besides, he'd be spaced if Mal found out about the exchange of money for secrecy. He'd be dead before he could get spaced if Mal found out about the guns not being stolen. Jayne had willingly left the shuttle, and was hiking through the planet-shined darkness. It didn't take him long to find the trail the others had left. Simon moved through the forest like an elephant, leaving a swath of destruction that any trained eye could find.

The planet-shine cast the world into a hue of gray, tinted faintly with yellow. It cast long, low shadows, thinned out versions of people and trees. Jayne knew he'd be read the holy riot if he got spotted out and about like this, so he skirted around the mule. His night vision adapted enough that he could see shapes around the mule, one draped slightly across the seats, while two argued in rapid whispers. Oddly, he was happy he left the walkie back at the shuttle. No noise would give him away.

His lungs burned as he edged around the mule, taking care to not be spotted. Normally, he would have complained to himself about getting so soft so quickly, but he was keeping himself carefully on track. He had a coin to give back to a crazy girl. He'd told them about the shuttle, after all.

Jayne was hardly surprised to find the side entrance wide open. He'd already had to step over two bodies. Both marked with the giant exit wounds of a 40 millimeter bullet. Jayne couldn't stop smirking. She'd used Jezzie. He felt a swell of pride that she'd done so well, but he stopped himself before it got out of hand. He'd never given her more than a few pointers. The single-throat shot, and the head-shot both reeked of other training. The same training that she refused to unleash on Jayne himself.

Once inside, he noticed that she'd switched to Carrie, and judging from the spray pattern on the walls, and the heap of guards at the head of the corridor, she'd only used it once. He pictured her for a moment, with the Jericho in one hand, and the little QSZ in the other. He suddenly wished he could have provided her with a matched pair.

Jayne could almost picture the conversation going on outside. "_How do we stop a guy who makes us jump through hoops?_" "_How do we know he's not already controlling River?_" Jayne shuddered to imagine the second one. Seems that she'd already done a thorough job of clearing out the place. Any open door yielded only a tableau of grisly bodies. His silent tally was up to ten, only four of them wearing security uniforms.

In a few cases, she hadn't even used the guns.

He found the girls first. The two rifles were leaned lovingly up against the wall, as though set there in preparation for a serious confrontation. Glancing up and down the hall, he hefted Carrie first, checking her over for dings or nicks. Her clip was totally empty. Slinging her easily over his shoulder, he adjusted his carriage to accommodate the added weight. Jezebel got the inspection next. She had four bullets remaining in her stripper clip, but the bayonet was missing.

Rooting around the immediate area, Jayne happened across a partially-open slidewall. Sticking the barrel of Vera through first, he forced it open the rest of the way. A single spray of blood marked the interior of the small chamber, but a body was lacking. The bloody bayonet lay at the base of the splatter. Reverently, Jayne lifted it, and cleaned it off as best he could by wiping it on his pants.

"Pixie?" His voice came out barely above a whisper, as he palmed the pad to the interior doors. "Pixie, you in here?" When the door slid open, Jayne wasn't prepared for what he could see.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Face-Off

A desk. A bed. Data discs scattered everywhere. Hardcopy books, bindings crisp and unmarked, dominated one wall. The far wall was nothing but a bank of screens. Static flickered and quipped across most of them, the signal impaired by the lack of power-boost. The final wall held more captures than he cared to count. None caught his attention immediately, but the constant state of motion at the edge of his vision gave him a case of the heebie-jeebies. Jayne forced himself to focus; there were just too many other things on his mind. A little searching revealed Melissa and Alexis stowed away in the safety of a desk drawer. Not even locked up.

Jayne hefted both weapons in turn, before tucking them into his waistband, one at the front, and one at the back. There had been no shots fired in this room. No signs of a struggle, just… junk. Jayne palmed a few of the data discs before he turned, ready to leave. He froze without ever having taken a step. How long had he been watched?

"_Mi tian gohn_... Pix..." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. The recognition had already dawned in his eyes. Blood had dried to a crust at the corner of her mouth, a black and swollen bruise already ringing her cheek and jaw. Her head hung limp, hair dangling at the knees of the young man carrying her.

Eyes glittered coldly as the two men matched gazes. Jayne remained calm, even though he knew that this guy had to be that… Chase-fella River had been spouting about. Which meant that Jayne was looking eye to eye with the coward who shot him with someone else's trigger finger. Jayne straightened himself up, trying to ignore the burning sensation that spread slowly through his chest.

Chase shifted his grip on River's inert form. "You can't have her! She's mine! _Mine!_" He curled River up tighter into his arms, eyes widening until the whites showed all the way around the flint chips. Jayne felt a thought worming at the back of his head. He could walk away. He could be rid of the crazy girl, rid of all the potential complications she could cause, and he could get back to his normal life. But… how empty would that life be, without that silent shadow of a girl coloring across the mess while he cleaned his guns?

"Now, who went an' toldja a silly bit like that?" Jayne found himself asking. Rage replaced fear on Chase's features, like a switch flipping, while part of Jayne wondered if that kid had tried something brainy on him. Jayne kept going, letting his mouth run. "She b'longs t'herself. So, whyn't you put her down… and we settle this like men."

"No." Chase stated it softly. He sounded like a petulant child, told to put down his favorite toy and go to bed. Jayne's lip curled slightly at the thought. The merc hated this part of the situation: the talking. He was a man of action, but the way Chase held River's head to his shoulder, meant that he could break her neck at any wrong twitch.

There was another thought, softer and subtler than the first. Chase had the girl completely at his mercy. Maybe giving the obviously desperate boy an hour with her wouldn't hurt. Jayne began to shrug, and opened his mouth. "What in gorramn hell am I thinkin'?" Jayne actually smacked his own forehead. "Look, kid, if yer lookin' fer trim, I know a great whore house on Athens…"

"No." Chase made the simple statement again, tearing his eyes away from Jayne for the first time, to glance down at the face pressed into his shoulder. "She was always to be mine. We were created to be the perfect pair."

Jayne swallowed slightly. River was starting to move. He saw the twitch of her foot first. Here he was, hoping the crazy girl would wake up and put an end to this. But she twitched, jerky, her body lacking the natural grace Jayne had become accustomed to watching. Taking half a step back, Jayne felt the edge of the desk at his hip. For all his weaponry, he didn't trust his trigger finger to move faster than the psychic's mind-reading.

"We were meant to be. Puppet, and puppet-master. She could kick and kill; always one step ahead of the danger. I would push and manipulate; playing chess with the minds of others." Chase was beginning to set River down, even though her eyes had yet to open. She stood on her own, albeit a little wobbly, weaving slightly to keep her balance. Chase continued to watch her. "You won't shoot her."

Very slowly, River's eyes began to open. Glazed and unfocused, those dark, doe-eyes meandered around the room. Chase laid both his hands on River's shoulders, stepping behind her as she fought to get her bearings. Jayne's fingers itched. A muscle twitched in River's arm, causing her fingers to ripple closed. One foot began to slide forward. River took a full step.

Jayne seized his moment. Melissa fairly leapt into his hand; his elbow snapping straight even as his finger twitched against the trigger. The cordite stench was never more comforting. Time seemed to slow to a desperate crawl. River's eyes rolled back into her head once more; she snagged a foot on a data chip. Falling in slow motion, her whole body relaxed, limp and pliable.

Behind her, Chase stared in stunned silence, eyes slowly crossing as though he could see the source of the trickle of red blood down along the bridge of his nose. When he crumpled like a discarded rag doll, time seemed to snap back to normal. Jayne practically skidded across the floor on his knees; he bowed his head, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

She was still breathing…

* * *

Simon practically fell over Mal in his haste to get out of the control room door. In the minutes since they'd settled Zoë comfortably into the mule, the two men had returned to the scene of the last fight. Only to find the room demolished, and vacant.

It was the gunshot that sent them both into a panic. Simon went to turn left down a fork in the corridor, but Mal grabbed the back of his shirt as he passed by. Redirected, Simon didn't argue as Mal charged ahead, pistol drawn. Mal burst through the paneling first, barely two minutes after the gunshot went off.

And it was Mal that fell face first over the body lying across the entrance. Sprawling into the room like a graceful gosling, Mal sputtered and cursed, coming up with every colorful epithet he could think of. Simon, ever more cautious than the captain, poked his head in first, and looked down at the corpse of Chase at his feet.

Chewing on the inside of his lip, he looked up, scanning the room. "Jayne?" A thousand questions crashed through his mind upon spotting the mercenary calmly picking up data chips that lay scattered around the room. "River?!" The girl was simply standing, staring at a moving wall of captures.

Simon scrambled over to her, as Mal was picking himself up and liberally berating Jayne for not following orders. River held her left arm by the elbow, letting her burnt hand curl uselessly along the curve of her right arm. She didn't flinch or move as Simon took hold of her by the shoulders. But she wouldn't let him physically turn her around.

"_Mei-mei_, are you alright? You weren't hurt, were you?"

Her eyes rolled in his direction for a moment, head tilted just so. Simon caught the swell of the bruise, and her burnt hand. It looked as though she'd also taken the skin off her chin. He fully expected to be teased for his concern, but she only fixed him with a melancholy stare before turning her attention back to the captures.

Curious, Simon followed her gaze. Every one of the captures featured his sister, in some setting or another. In some, she was sitting at a desk, furiously penning a letter, bent close over the digital pad as she scrawled away frantically with a stylus. In others, she cradled a younger girl in her lap, gently rocking the blond child as they both wept. Simon felt the fury rising in his heart. But it died a quick death as River turned to him, and laid her head against his arm.

Behind them, Mal continued to yell at Jayne, who seemed to take it all in stony silence. Putting an arm around his sister, Simon turned her gently away from the wall of memories. "Captain…"

"What?" Mal rounded on Simon, prepared to give him the same whatfor. Jayne glanced up, carefully balancing the stacks of data chips in his hands.

"He saved River's life… think we could let him go this time?"

Mal grunted, growled, and glared at Jayne once more. "Got a point, doc."

Jayne waited until the captain had stormed off down the corridor to approach the Tams. River didn't look up at him. "Pi--… Crazy said these'd be 'portant." River physically stepped away as Jayne held out the pile of twenty or so data chips to Simon. His sister suddenly absent, Simon had no choice but to take the pile from the mercenary. River began to slowly leave the room. Jayne turned without a word and began to follow her.

Simon stood dumbfounded as the merc sped up enough to drag Chase's carcass out of River's way. As soon as she was out the door, Jayne rubbed his chest thoughtfully, and glanced down at the body once more.

"Comin'?" he finally asked of Simon.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Simon readjusted his grip on the data chips, and preceded Jayne out of the facility. Once they were outside, Jayne fidgeted. He didn't know why or how, but Zoë was laid out over the back seat of the mule, looking like she was sleeping.

"Hasn't moved." He admitted when Mal demanded to know where the shuttle was.

Simon stepped between them. "I'll go with Jayne, and River. It'll be easier to make sure she's had no major trauma's in the shuttle." River herself had yet to speak.

Mal glared again. Jayne was getting put on septic duty for the next few months as punishment for this particular stunt, regardless of the fact that he'd managed to somehow save River in the process. Mal was convinced that it had been simply an accident.

"You get them home safe, _dong ma_?" Mal poked a finger at Jayne's chest, but never touched him. The merc only nodded. The mule would run low with five, but thankfully it wasn't that far to the shuttle. With Mal's help, they moved Zoë to the front seat, where Jayne would sit behind her to keep her from falling out. River slouched between Jayne and her brother, hiding behind a curtain of hair.

No one said a word, even when Zoë stirred back to wakefulness. No one commented when Jayne helped both River and Simon down from the mule. Or when he disappeared into the shuttle without having to be told. Simon took a few moments to make sure Zoë didn't have a concussion, but once satisfied that she didn't, he left the captain with his first mate. Mal waited until Simon had led his sister into the shuttle.

"So, Jayne disobeyed orders?" Zoë asked quietly, as she gingerly touched the spot on her head that would soon form a giant egg.

Mal grunted in reply.

"You think he did it just for the guns?"

Once more, Mal grunted, but then, he shook his head slowly. The mule shifted into gear easily as the shuttle's engines whined up to full power. Zoë sat and stared at the captain for a few moments.

"You have a very, very hard head, sir," she muttered finally.


	14. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Fallout

On the first day, Mal returned to Persephone, with a fairly sound-proof story that United Reclamation had gotten to Badger's goods first. Badger, dismayed, had tried to contact his buyer repeatedly, but had neither been answered, nor waved back in eighteen hours. In the wake of the slaughter of nearly all his men, Badger let Mal's failure slide as he busily was trying to pin the coup on a rival of his nearly halfway around the planet.

On the second day, River piloted them silently into the black, acting as though nothing had happened on Sparta. Mal and Simon settled down to check out the contents of some of the data chips. An hour in, they were joined by Zoë. An hour after that, by Inara and Kaylee. Jayne spent the time divided between cleaning his guns, and flushing the sewage system. Most of the data was old newsfeeds, flash bulletins and dumb little moments. Chase, it seemed, had been a data junkie.

Simon at some point, noticed Zoë rubbing her knee, and bickered with her until Mal gave her an order to have it looked at. The two of them passed by Jayne on his way to the showers, as they descended into the infirmary. Simon commented on how badly he reeked, and Jayne snarled in response. Zoë was pleased to see them back at each others throats, in the aftermath of the weirdness that Mal hinted.

Simon would have Zoë at his mercy for the greater part of the next two hours. Sometime during those two hours, Kaylee retired to the engine room, while Inara headed to the infirmary to assure herself that Zoë wasn't giving Simon too much grief. Mal was left alone with the data chips. After a few more discs of nothing but fluff, he succumbed to the urge to close his eyes.

Jayne stepped out of the showers, and slunk like a guilty cat toward his bunk. Of the hundreds of things he'd been pondering saying over the course of his shower, none of them seemed to work. He had talked to himself the entire time, finding excuses, going over plots that were entirely too linear. As he neared his bunk, a familiar shape detached itself from the wall, and waited.

She was wearing a cute little sundress, of all gold and pink flowers. Bare feet, of course; Jayne had never seen her walk around the ship with her boots actually on. Even as she watched him approach, that steady gaze betrayed nothing.

"'Spect you'll be wantin' the bear back?" Jayne muttered as he kicked his hatch open. River only nodded mutely. Part of him felt triumphant for knowing what was on her mind, when she was supposed to be the Reader. "Jus' wait here." Swinging onto the ladder, Jayne descended into his bunk without a further word. He glanced back up once, and was satisfied to see her leaning over the opening, staring curiously down into the space.

Grabbing the bear off its shelf, Jayne swung back up the ladder. River jumped hastily out of his way, and let a minor expression of dismay cross her brow as he toed the hatch shut. Having her looking down into his bunk made him all manner of uncomfortable. Holding the bear out to her, he watched the girl's expression soften as she accepted it. Unable to help himself, Jayne watched her left hand carefully. Simon had taken time with it, weaved and mended it, and wrapped it all up in a bandage.

Motioning with his chin slightly, Jayne asked before realizing it: "How's the hand?"

River glanced up from her inspection of the white bear in the ballerina tutu. For a moment, Jayne was afraid that the little creep had taken away all her powers of speech. That they'd forever have to be interpreting her expressions and eye-rolls. Her little pink tongue darted out to wet her lips.

"How much?"

"Whassat?" Jayne leaned down a bit, having missed her whisper for being so focused on that pouty expression. He shook himself slightly, tried to lean back against the bulkhead nonchalantly.

"Consumed ammunition. Monetary value. Pledge was given to make equitable trade." River hesitated then, and she drew the stuffed bear a little tighter against her chest. "Both of cash money, and… portions of my hide."

Jayne felt his grin crack through the confusion. Oh, he remembered those threats! She was getting uncomfortable as he chuckled, failing to see the amusement in her hide being stripped. She shifted from one foot to another, before Jayne finally reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder.

She tensed, and looked ready to bolt, but Jayne's grip held her in place. They both knew that she could easily drop him where he stood, that the right touch in the right place would end the whole situation. And Jayne waited a moment to see if she'd make a move. When she didn't, he pulled her closer, until he could lean down to her ear. With one hand, he brushed back her hair, letting his lips linger a fraction of a centimeter away from her skin.

"Never… run off ag'in." He whispered softly. "_Dong ma?_"

River was shaking like a leaf. As he drew back slightly, she had shut her eyes, and let her lips fall slightly open. The one thing he'd promised he'd never do came breaking down in that moment. There was a special hell waiting for him at the end of his long walk, but he was pretty damn sure he wouldn't be going there alone. Nope. There was gonna be this little blood-stained ghost of a girl walking beside him the whole way.

Jayne leaned in for a moment more, just long enough to feel the electricity of breath against breath, and lips against lips. River flinched physically, jolting away from him with a start. He released her shoulder as she backed away, the fingers of her right hand exploring her lips. When Jayne let his hand fall limply to his side, River took off down the corridor like a spooked doe.

With a sigh, he scrubbed his hand over his face, and kicked his hatch open once more. Standing at the base of the ladder, he stared thoughtfully at the weapon rack on his wall.

"_No one cares for the weapon. I do not wish to be the weapon._"

He thought back on that comment, while he took Alexis down from her spot on the wall. Turning the weapon over in his hands… he admired her lines, the sweep of the trigger guard. His guns were like women, each with their own fickle personality, all with their own quirks. Understanding clouted him upside the head with a five pound mallet.

He knew what he should have said while she'd fretted and worried that day. He knew exactly what she needed to hear. His shoulders sagged, defeated.

_Yer more than a weapon, t'me._


End file.
